


Happy Birthday, Mr. Lyman

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Character Study, Episode Tag, Episode: s02e02 In the Shadow of Two Gunmen Part II, F/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-07-28
Updated: 2001-07-28
Packaged: 2019-05-15 23:27:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14799980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Josh's recovery from the shooting.





	1. Happy Birthday, Mr. Lyman

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

Category: Josh & Donna/General Rating: PG at best Summary: Josh's recovery from the shooting. Disclaimer: It Aaron's world. I'm hoping no one gets upset at my borrowing them for a moment. Note: I'm making some things different for the sake of being different so as not to canonize the usual fanfic explanations.

Happy Birthday Mr. Lyman, Part 1 By: Jenna

** Wednesday, August 23rd 2000 **

The old blue Mazda pulled up to the curb in front of the brownstone. Deputy Communications Director Sam Seaborn slid out of the back passenger door, opened the front passenger door and said, "Easy does it. Take my arm, buddy."

The man inside weakly grasped Sam's forearm and put his weight on it as he slowly slid out of the car and stood. He swayed slightly, and Sam wrapped his free arm around the invalid. "whoa, easy. I've got you. You okay, buddy? It's just a few steps."

"Thanks, Sam. I think I can manage," White House Deputy Chief of Staff and world-famous shooting victim, Joshua Lyman responded.

"You need me?" Donna Moss, asked from the driver's seat.

"We can manage, go ahead and park. We'll see you inside," Sam replied. He knew Josh wanted Donna to witness his struggle to mount the stairs almost as little as he'd wanted his mother to have to see his weakness. Being an invalid was difficult enough without facing their heart-broken expressions of pity. Mrs. Lyman had been strongly encouraged to absent herself from the apartment for a couple of hours while Josh got settled in.

"Come on, Josh. Lean on me," Sam said as Donna pulled away from the curb. He wrapped his right arm around Josh and offered his left forearm for Josh to grasp. They stopped on each step then carefully moved up one more. Finally they reached the doorway into the building. Fortunately Josh's apartment was on the first floor of the old renovated Georgetown brownstone. Sam pulled out his spare key and unlocked the door.

"Your mother has been getting the place ready for your return. The doctor said to remove any throw rugs or things you might trip over. Make sure there's sturdy furniture you can hang onto if you start to fall. That sort of thing. We can get a wheelchair if you need it..." Sam rattled on as he walked Josh to the sofa and eased him down.

"Sam, it's a two-bedroom apartment. I can't leave it for two months except to go to the doctor. I think I can manage to make the 20 feet from the bedroom to the bathroom or the kitchen without a wheelchair," Josh complained.

Sam would take that as a sign that his best friend was doing better except that he was out of breath from the complaint. Sam looked up at the door as Donna entered.

"That was quick," Sam said.

"I lucked out. You guys want something to drink?" Donna asked heading for the kitchen.

"Is there any beer left?" Sam asked.

"I'll take one too," Josh said.

"Nice try, but no alcohol for you, Joshua," Donna replied at the kitchen door.

"But...this is my apartment. It's my beer."

"Actually, we drank your beer ages ago. I bought more," Sam explained.

"You mean, while I was in the hospital, you've been coming over to my apartment and drinking my beer?" Josh whined.

"It was the party house. CJ, Toby, Leo and I all used to come over and 'get down'," Sam continued, obviously getting into his flight of fancy.

"'Get down?' Have you been watching 'Starsky and Hutch' reruns again?" Josh mocked.

"What can I say?" I love to party. I'm the party man."

"Yeah, right." Josh grumbled, in too much pain to continue joking with Sam just now.

"Josh," Donna reminded in her 'you're a moron' voice, "your mother's been here for over a month. We visit. Anyway, I have a tote-bag full of the finest medicines in the land and every one of them says 'no alcohol'. I'm gonna make a pot of tea. You want some?"

"Yeah, tea sounds good," Josh answered then closed his eyes and leaned back into the sofa.

Donna put on the kettle and returned with beers for herself and Sam. She glance at Josh noticing the strain around his closed eyes, then looked sadly at Sam. He tightened his lips and frowned back in unspoken concern for their friend.

"Josh," Donna quietly said. "Why don't you let Sam get you into bed while the kettle's boiling? I'll bring the tea in there,".

"You won't bring me coffee, but you'll bring me tea?" he asked, opening his eyes and smiling slightly.

"I'm funny that way."

"Come on, Josh. Let's get you in bed before your mother comes back and tries to take away my job," Sam said standing up and reaching over to help his friend get up.

"Yeah, 'cause depending on your help to get undressed and go to the bathroom is so much better asking for my mother's," Josh replied sarcastically.

"Good point. I guess I wouldn't want anyone's help either. But, unless you want your mother's, you'd better get moving."

Sam helped Josh undress down to his boxers and t-shirt and get into bed. Then he pulled up the TV-tray table that Mrs. Lyman had left in readiness next to the bed. "I'll just check on Donna now."

"Yeah," Josh replied as he leaned back into the pillows and closed his eyes.

"Hey," Sam said walking into the kitchen and seeing that Donna was putting the finishing touches on the tea tray.

"Good timing," she said, picking up the tray and carrying it to the bedroom with Sam trailing along behind.

"I found some cookies your mom must have baked this morning. At least they weren't here when I left last night."

"My favorites too," Josh said taking a cookie while Donna poured his tea.

"Sam, you want a cup?"

"Sure," he said guzzling the last of his beer. "What kind of cookies? Is that a special recipe from the old country?"

"Uh... no. They're Toll-House cookies. Seeing as how my mother's 'old country' is New England. And her ancestors came from Merry Old England...

"Right. I forgot," Sam quipped. "It's your father who was Polish or something, right?"

"My father's family was Dutch," Josh explained patiently. "My father was born in Rotterdam but he really didn't talk about it much. He mentioned the bombing once and moving to Amsterdam after that. When he was teaching me to skate he told me about skating on the frozen canals as a boy."

"You ice skate? Sam asked incredulously.

"I'm from Connecticut." Josh replied in a tone that implied that learning to ice skate is a requisite for growing up in New England.

"Was your father in Birkenau too?" Donna asked gently, taking his tea cup to pour him some more.

"No. He was a kid, just 12, he wouldn't have sur--" Josh, took the tea cup back and took a long sip as he collected his thoughts. Usually he avoided this subject, but his own brush with death and the need for the support and comfort of his close friends made him feel like he owed them this knowledge of his family history. As his father and grandfather had been saved, these were the people who had --were-- saving him. "In July 1942, the first Dutch Jews arrived at Auschwitz-Birkenau from Westerbork--that was the camp that they were funneled through. Ironically, it was set up as a refugee camp for German Jews and the Dutch government kept them there. The Nazis just expanded the place and called it a 'transit camp'. Over 100,000 Dutch Jews went through it to Auschwitz, Birkenau, Sobibor... My grandfather sold everything he owned before the Nazis came for the Jews left in the Amsterdam Ghettos. He used the money to get my dad out of the country, literally, in a fruit crate just days before... Sympathizers got my father to America -- to my Great Aunt Rachel, she was my grandfather's sister. She'd immigrated to America, in 1937 I think, and married my Uncle David. He was a lawyer in Boston. They raised my father after that. Got him into Harvard..." He took a deep breath and continued, "When the Red Army liberated Birkenau in January 1945... well... the Nazi's didn't leave much of anyone behind. Alive, that is. They took 58,000 prisoners, including my grandfather, with them. 20,000 died or were executed on the way to Germany. And they were killing 9,000 a day up until they destroyed the gas chambers as the Allies closed in. That was in November of 44. No one could believe my grandfather could've survived. He made his way back to Amsterdam somehow... He didn't want to be placed in a refugee camp... He didn't trust the Russians either. It took two years to locate him then get papers so he could come over.

"What about your grandmother?" Sam asked quietly.

"I'm sorry?"

"Your grandmother? Was she in deported to Birkenau too?" Sam asked.

"Um... no... She died in the firebombing of Rotterdam on May 14, 1940. Along with my father's younger brothers and sister. The Dutch surrendered the next day, after five days at war with Germany..."

"There really are some blessings. The Lyman's have a tragic family history, but it could be so much worse," a woman's voice softly spoke from the doorway.

"Mother. I didn't hear you come in."

"Leo once said he should put a bell on me," she said with a gentle laugh. "Your father thought that was an marvelous idea. I was forever sneaking up on them."

"He threatened to put one on CJ a while back too," Josh said. Did you go grocery shopping again?" he asked, while Donna poured a cup of tea and handed it to the older woman.

"No, I stopped in for mass at the Catholic Church around the corner. I hadn't been to mass in --it must be-- 30 years. There was something... peaceful... about it."

"You're not thinking about reverting are you, Mary?" Donna asked with a skeptical smile. She well knew Mrs. Lyman's opinions about her childhood Catholicism.

"No, indeed!" Mary Lyman laughed. Not that I ever totally converted. Noah and I were just never really religious. We wanted Josh to know both his heritages and to make his own choice."

"So, I don't believe in much of anything," Josh said stifling a yawn.

"And I'm finding I believe more and more," his mother replied with a smile at the miracle politely covering a yawn before her eyes.

"Let's let you get some sleep," Donna said collecting the tea cup from his hand and gathering up the tray as she stood.

"Yeah, get some sleep, buddy. I'll be by tomorrow morning," Sam said standing up to follow Donna out.

Mary Lyman moved to the bed and kissed Josh's forehead, adjusting his pillows as he slid down into the covers. "Call out if you need anything. I'll check back in before I go to bed." She kissed him again. "Good night," she said cutting out the light and went into the living room to find Sam preparing to leave.

"I need to head back to the office for a while," he told Donna.

"Sure you don't want to have dinner first? We bought a big lasagna," Donna said. "We were just going to heat it and some bread and make a salad..."

"Toby's expecting me back to work on the Labor Day address."

"You sure, dear? You have to eat anyway," Mrs. Lyman added.

"Thanks, anyway but I'll just pick up something on the way." I'd better go or Toby'll yell. I'll be by in the morning to help. Call me if you need me sooner," Sam said easing out the door.

"Bye, Sam. I'll see you tomorrow," Donna said closing the door behind him. She turned and smiled at Mrs. Lyman. "vegetables or lettuce?"

"I'll slice the vegetables. You did that last time."

"Deal," Donna replied, as the two women reached one of many agreements and headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

* * *

The man in the dark suit stepped off the train, took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. He sat the suitcase down on the rail platform and ran his hand through his unruly chestnut brown hair. His gentle brown eyes watched as the other passengers poured from the train and lined up, also waiting to hear about their new homes in the Polish countryside. The Germans said that it was too dangerous for them to stay in the Holland. It was too near the front lines. Tempers were too high. There was too much anger against the Jews. It would be safer in the Polish countryside. Just until things settled down, then they would be returned to the city and their lives could return to normal. Like it was before the war.

He was glad he'd gotten his son away from this. He didn't completely trust the Germans promises to feed and house them properly. A young boy shouldn't have to see the face of war. Young Noah had already seen too much at Rotterdam. Seen the house destroyed and his mother's arm sticking out of the rubble... He'd gotten word that his sister and the American lawyer she'd married had taken the boy in and that he was learning English already. That he would start to school in the fall. The German officers started giving instructions to the passengers and the man listened. It was fortunate that he spoke German, French, and a bit of Russian as well as his native Dutch. They were asking people to identify themselves based on their skills. The man was a teacher, but his father had been a watchmaker, and he had learned the delicate craft at his father's knee. They called for craftsmen skilled at repairing instruments and he stepped forward. The majority of the passengers were to be checked by the doctors, get cleaned up after the long, over-crowded train ride, then they'd go to their new homes. The men and women who'd been separated out were to go to the barracks at their new relocation camp. The man smiled as he entered the gates of Birkenau. It was his 40th birthday and he was starting a new life.

* * *

Josh woke and sat up, crying out from the fiery pain that ripped across his chest.

Mary Lyman and Donna Moss clearing the dinner dishes were alarmed to hear the cry from the bedroom. They set the dishes down and rushed to the bedroom. Josh was hunched over in pain and had broken out in a cold sweat.

His mother saw tears in his eyes as she grabbed hold of him and eased him around. "Josh? What is it?"

At his obvious reluctance to talk, Donna said, "I'll just..." and motioning to the doorway left Mrs. Lyman alone with her son.

"It's nothing. Just a nightmare from talking about Grandpa Lyman. I dreamed I was him, but it was like a bad mix of his stories and 'Schindler's List' or something. I just sat up too fast and it pulled. I'm fine now."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"I brought you some water," Donna said coming back into the room. "And your own pharmaceutical cornucopia," holding out a fluorescent orange Clinique tote-bag full of pill bottles.

"Oh joy," Josh replied sarcastically.

"Shut up and take these," Donna succinctly replied pouring a couple of capsules from the container into her hand.

He glowered but took the pills and water glass as ordered.

Turning to his mother and Donna said, "I've made a list of everything he's to take and color coded them as to whether they're once a day --blue-- or every six hours --red-- or whatever. Here's the list and color code key. Also, printouts of all the possible side effects and interactions. Make sure he eats something before he takes any that I have the little fork-and-spoon icon by. I'm keeping a complete list of everything, so if you have any questions, call me."

"Thank you, dear," she said gently smiling at the gruffness the young woman was using to hide her deep concern behind. "You've been a god-send. I hope Josh appreciates how much you've done for him."

Josh and Donna looked awkward and embarrassed, not wanting to wade into their personal feelings. Those waters were too deep and dangerous.

"I'll finish the dishes if you want to help Josh... you know..." Donna said as she hurriedly departed the bedroom.

Mrs. Lyman smiled as Josh whined, "Really Mom, I can go to the bathroom by myself."

"I know dear, but I don't want to clean up the mess if you can't, so I'll just make sure you don't fall down." She said patting his arm and throwing back the covers to help him out of bed. "Just until you're a little more steady on your feet."

* * *

Mrs. Lyman let Sam Seaborn into the apartment the next morning. "Hi, Sam, he's still asleep. Go on and wake him up while I get you boys some coffee."

"Thank you, Mary."

Sam entered Josh's bedroom to find Josh asleep with his hand resting on a very large ball of long grey fur.

"Hey, Josh time to get up, buddy. Rise and shine." Josh didn't stir, but a very large triangular face with golden eyes emerged from the ball of fur and yawned. The cat got up, leisurely stretched, then jumped off the bed to go in search of breakfast. Sam nudged Josh's shoulder, "Josh."

"Hmmmm.... I'm awake, I'm awake," he muttered.

"Come on, Josh, I have to go to work. You want a shower or not?"

"Sam, I forgot you were coming over. Really, I can manage," Josh said.

"No, you really can't. I'm just going to make sure you get in and out okay. I'm not going to scrub your back or anything." Josh glowered in response.

"Here you go, dears. I know Josh is grumpy without his morning coffee," Mrs. Lyman said handing them each a mug of steaming coffee. "I'll just get breakfast started. Will you stay Sam?"

"For a real breakfast? Absolutely."

As she departed Josh took a sip of the coffee and made a face, "Decaf."

"Really," Sam took a sip. "Mine tastes fine."

"Want to swap?"

"Not a chance. Donna, your mother, and probably CJ would skin me alive."

"Yeah, they probably would." Josh sighed.

Sam sat the mug down and helped Josh get out of the bed. "Did you know that Oscar was sleeping with you?"

"Yeah, sure. He always sleeps with me when he's here or I'm home," Josh replied as they made their way towards the bathroom.

"I thought you hated cats."

"Donna's been maligning me again, I take it?" Josh said with an exasperated sigh. "I love cats. I even like her roommates cats. I just yelled at the kitten that time."

"Why did you yell at the kitten? What kitten?"

It was after we lost the vote on 486. I got really drunk --I think someone slipped me a mickey, I only had two or three... or... maybe... four... beers... and I couldn't remember where I lived, so I went to Donna's. She let me sleep on the couch, but it was really hot that night and I'd taken my pants off. So there I was in my boxers stretched out on the sofa, and I started having this really, really good dream about-- well, never mind that part. Anyway, Donna's roommate had a kitten --more like a half-grown cat-- and when the cloth started to move," he motioned with his hand.

"It pounced," Sam finished.

"Yeah."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. Anyway... I yelled. And, obviously, I couldn't tell Donna why."

"Definitely not."

"I had to, you know...

"Take it like a man."

"Yeah."

"Well, okay..." he cleared his throat and changed the subject, "Let me help you get that t-shirt off."

"You know, lifting my arms didn't hurt nearly as much when I was in the hospital."

"That's 'cause you were flying high on some heavy-duty drugs then, my friend."

* * * TBC

 

Note: Reference, Auschwitz Timeline. (Birkenau is also know as Auschwitz II) http://members.fortunecity.com/luke1000/auschwitz/timeline.htm Dutch Jews in World War II information: http://www.geocities.com/Heartland/7071/whyandhow.html

Recommended viewing: 'Soldier of Orange' and 'Escape from Sobibor' (which is the scene that Josh is dreaming about, but I decided he forgot because it's more obscure than Schindler's List.)


	2. Happy Birthday, Mr. Lyman 2

 

Happy Birthday Mr. Lyman, Part 2

By Jenna

* * *

* * Monday August 28, 2000 **

"Hi Donna," Mary Lyman said as she opened the door and let Donna into Josh's apartment late in the afternoon. Donna turned to look at hearing a strange male voice coming from the living room. Josh was stretched out on the floor wearing his gym shorts and an old t-shirt while the physical therapist put him through a series of exercises. Hearing his grunts and groans the two women knew that he would not appreciate an audience to witness his struggles.

"Why don't you help me in the kitchen. They'll be done soon." Mary said as she gently steered the younger woman into the kitchen. About ten minutes later the expected shout came from the living room.

"Donna! Donnatella Moss!"

"Hold your horses, Josh. I was up to my elbows in flour!'

"Since when do I even have flour in my house, much less you knowing what to do with it?" Josh smirked. At least it sounded like he was definitely smirking even though Donna couldn't see his face. Josh was now lying on his stomach on a beach towel and had removed his t-shirt so that the therapist could massage his tired, strained muscles.

"Since your mother arrived, and I wasn't really, but I could have been. It was a rhetorical example."

"A 'rhetorical example'? There's no such thing."

"Well, there should be. For, you know, rhetorical questions."

"Whatever. Tell me about the latest polling in the California 14th."

Donna picked the sweaty t-shirt up off the floor by her feet and absently fondled it as she spoke. She proceeded to tell him about the latest polling results for the California 14th. Then she told him about several other districts that the Bartlet staffers thought the Democrats might have a chance of winning --thanks to the President's popularity at getting in the way of a bullet. Donna continued to tell Josh about the latest rumors of who was in danger of being ousted and what dark-horse candidates they thought were likely to come from behind with a surprising win. All the while Donna watched as the physical therapist kneaded the stiff muscles of Josh's... soft... supple... well muscled... lightly glistening... naked... back...

"Donna! Weren't you listening to me?"

"Of course I was listening to you Josh, how could I not listen?"

"Fine. Then, what'd I just say?"

"You didn't say anything. You bellowed 'Donna!'"

"Very funny. I asked the latest on Toby's crusade to lock away all the white supremacists.'

Donna told Josh of Toby's crusade to repeal the Bill of Rights and the other events happening in the West Wing during his absence. Eventually his questions grew fewer and fewer... then faded to incoherent mumblings as he drifted off to sleep. The therapist stopped, gathered his belongings, and Donna showed him to the door.

And so began the routine that they would continue for the next six weeks. Donna came in the evenings and Sam came in the mornings to help Mary with Josh until he could manage for himself again. The physical therapist came in the late afternoons every two or three days and put Josh through a series of grueling exercises that left him sore and exhausted. To Sam fell the thankless task of working with Josh on the days the therapist didn't come. Sam managed to do get Josh to do the exercises without destroying their friendship through a combination of good-natured badgering, bullying, encouragement and camaraderie.

For the first two weeks after Josh's return home, Toby and CJ stopped by practically every evening, but it was usually fairly late and generally succeeded in getting Josh all hyped-up over some issue or another and that made it difficult for him to rest. Then, there were the constant telephone calls with the staff members. Most days, Josh was on the phone almost constantly. He'd start with Donna, then get transferred to CJ, then to Toby or Leo, then back to Donna or Sam. Just when he thought he was done, the President would want to just 'ask how he was doing' and they'd end up talking about the Theory of Everything --which became their own theories about everything--for the next 45 minutes. Josh was wearing himself out in a vicious effort to prove that everything was normal except he was working from home --that if he just pretended it wasn't a problem, he could will his body to obey.

* * *

* * Friday, August 1, 2000 * *

"Good morning," Mary said as she opened the door and let Sam Seaborn into the apartment. Sam was wearing his sweat pants and t-shirt for his early morning exercise session with Josh. After that, he would head to the White House gym for his own workout before he showered and change into a suit.

"Isn't he up yet?" Sam said looking around and seeing no sign of the usual sleepy Josh stumbling around complaining about being unable to wake up from drinking decaffeinated coffee.

"I haven't heard him... Why don't you go roust him while I make coffee." Mary turned towards the kitchen and Sam banged his way into the dim early morning light of Josh's bedroom.

"Hey Josh! Time to get up! Rise and shine! Up and at 'em!"

"What? Uh..." Josh groaned trying to sit up then giving up. "I don't think I can."

"Josh? What's wrong?" Sam's boisterous attitude fell away as genuine concern for his friend. He turned on the bedside light and saw that Josh looked way too pale. Sam reached out and touched Josh's forehead without thought for the usual macho taboos on touching. They'd all had to touch Josh so much in the course of helping him manage since the shooting that now it was sometimes harder to remember not to reach out to him. Josh's skin felt hot and he had a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead.

"Mary!"

"What? What's wrong?" she said rushing into the room while drying her hands on a dish towel.

"Josh has a fever. I think he's had a relapse. Maybe an infection... They said to watch for signs..."

Mary sat down on the bed next to Josh and felt his forehead as he looked up at her with the same woeful eyes she remembered from when he was five and had the measles. <'Yes, this means you can't go out and play...'> She stroked his hair back from his forehead and smiled gently in reassurance to her son. "I'll call the Doctor's office. The visiting nurse is due by today, anyway. Sam, could you get a glass of water while I sort out the morning pills?"

"Sure."

* * *

The visiting nurse stopped by first thing that morning and consulted with Josh's doctor. The doctor called in a new prescription and ordered Josh to get more rest. Donna stopped by at lunchtime with the new medicine, then she and Mary sat down and came up with a list of rules that would force Josh to get more rest.

Donna assured Mary that there wouldn't be a problem getting the staff to comply. Sam had scared everyone half to death that morning with his story of Josh's relapse. Josh was *not* to have any more of those. Leo and the President would not allow it! The rules would be enforced on pain of a little punishment from the two most powerful men in the free world. Henceforth, Josh was to have no phone calls or visitors (excluding Donna) between 11:30 and 2:30 when he should be eating a peaceful lunch then taking a nap. Phone calls were limited to no more than 20 minutes out of each hour between the allowed hours of 8:30 to 11:30 a.m., 2:30 to 6:30 p.m., and (emergencies only!) from 7:30 to 9:30 p.m. The 7:30 to 9:30 timeslot was also designated as 'visiting hours', but anyone who came over had better keep their visit strictly in the social/morale-boosting mode and not get Josh worked up or tired out or they'd be banned (duration subject to discretion -- AKA: Donna's degree of pissed-off-ness at the infraction). Sam would still come by in the mornings and Donna in the evenings to help.

Evening social visits from Sam, CJ and Toby were limited to every other day. People had to coordinate so that all of them would not be present at the same time due to their tendency to turn into Musketeers (or some days, Mouseketeers), which tired Josh out. Leo was the only one (Donna didn't count, of course) who was actually declared to be exempt from the rules. Leo could be counted on to look out for Josh's best interest without any rules. When he called to talk to Josh, it was to make Josh feel like he was still an important and valued voice. Leo's calls kept Josh in the loop on the events happening in the West Wing and always left him feeling better and stronger. Leo was welcome to call or come by anytime if it had that effect.

"I think that just about covers it," Donna said putting down the ballpoint pen and flexing her tired hand. "I'll type these up and pass them out this afternoon. That way no one can say they 'didn't get my email'."

Mary got up and cleared the lunch plates that had been shoved to the side. "Still... it's not looking good for that mid-October return date..."

"No." Donna said as she stood to take her glass to the sink. "I think he was pushing himself too hard, just because of that date. The sooner he accepts that he can't just bounce back from..." Donna faltered and put a hand to her face.

Mary walked to Donna and put her arm around the younger woman. "It's okay, Donna. He's stubborn like his father before him, but he's smart too. He'll learn from this. He'll abide by the rules. You'll see." She gave Donna's shoulders a squeeze. But so much for my heading back to Hartford for a few days."

Donna sniffed and felt bad. She knew Mary had been looking forward to going home and getting a brief respite from playing nursemaid. A neighbor was watching the house, but she must miss her own home and her friends. "You should go. Really. The doctor said Josh would be okay. That he just needed to rest more. I can stay here while you're gone and make sure he does. I'll even feed him while you're gone!" she chuckled.

"Well, if you'll feed him... "Mary smiled back, "I can't have my only son wasting away to skin and bones... Seriously, Donna, I don't want to impose on you. You've already done so much for us. And this is the Labor Day weekend. Surely you have plans..."

"Nope. I probably would have been here all weekend anyway, only now Josh can't make me work," she grinned maliciously. "He has to rest the entire weekend. He'll hate it! Maybe I'll make him stay in bed... Are you taking Oscar?" she asked looking over at the big grey cat who had just walked across the kitchen to his food dish. "You could leave him... I think Josh'd like the company during the day."

"So you finally realized that Oscar doesn't need to stay shut up in my bedroom, huh?"

"Well, when I found him sleeping on Josh's stomach the other day, I figured it out."

"He always has like animals. I think if he had a regular 9 to 5 job he'd have a menagerie. Maybe someday..." Mary sighed thinking back to the carefree little boy that Josh had been. That little boy probably would have grown up to marry his college sweetheart and have a ramshackle house with several kids and an assortment of cats, dogs, hamsters, turtles, and goldfish. But that boy died with his sister one sunny afternoon.

"I don't know how he ever managed without you to keep him in line, Donna"

"Very badly. Case in point: one Mandy Hampton," Donna made a face knowing Mary's poor opinion of Mandy's 10-month exercise in manipulating Josh.

"I'm so glad that woman moved back to New York! When I think how--" Mary took a deep breath and calmed down. "Well, suffice to say I'm very glad you came along and provided such a nice contrast to Mandy that Josh was able to see what genuine caring is all about."

Donna blushed and turned away. "How could anyone not genuinely care for Josh... Not that I'd admit that to him, of course. His ego is big enough already." She cleared her throat. "I'd better get back before Josh wakes up and decides I need to bring him the few remaining files that are left in his office. I'll see you later," Donna said grabbing her purse and tote bag and practically running for the door before she could say anything else embarrassingly emotional to Josh's mom.

Mary just smile and said, "I'll finish packing for Hartford. My train leaves at 10:35 tomorrow morning. Sam offered me a ride to the station."

"Okay. I'll be here by 8:30 and stay with Josh. See you tonight. Call if you need me to pick up anything on the way," Donna said closing the door behind her.

* * *

Mary left the next morning, leaving Josh in Donna's care for the next few days to a week, depending on how Josh was doing by Tuesday night when Mary would make the decision to stay or head back. Other than Sam coming by to make sure Josh didn't fall in the shower during his relapse, no visitors were allowed for the weekend. Josh ended up sleeping most of time while Donna quietly read or worked at the dining room table where she'd sat up the laptop. Oscar happily alternated between sleeping on Donna's lap and curled up next to Josh.

* * *

** Labor Day, Monday September 4, 2000 **

"Hey, Donna." CJ Cregg said as Donna opened the door to Josh's apartment Monday afternoon. "How's he doing today?"

"I'm fine, thank you!" Came a disembodied voice from the direction of the sofa.

"He's being difficult," countered Donna.

"I'm not being difficult. I'm just not letting you cut my hair."

"I read a book. I can do it."

"I'd sooner have Sam trim my toe nails with hedge clippers!" Josh exclaimed sitting up in indignation.

"That can be arranged!"

CJ chuckled, happy to see that Josh was obviously feeling better again. "You are getting a little shaggy there, my friend.

"My hair's just fine. I'm not letting Donna cut it."

"Well pal-o-mine, it's your lucky day. I worked two summers at SuperClippers when I was in school. I'll cut it." She reached out to snag her fingers through his curls. "We need to wash it first though," she said looking over at Donna.

"Oh no. No way! I can wash my own hair," Josh protested.

"Joshua, you can barely get your arms above your head. Standing under the shower and letting the water run through it doesn't count. Kitchen sink?" Donna said, turning to CJ.

"That'll work. You have to wash though."

"What!" Donna said, a slight high-pitched tone of panic in her voice. "Uh... I mean... That's fair. Since... you know... you're cutting."

"Come on, Josh." CJ said grabbing his hand and pulling him off the sofa, "I was a stylist to the stars. Trust me."

"You're lying right?"

"Big time."

Donna and CJ had Josh sit in a kitchen chair with a towel around his shoulders and lean his head back against the edge of the sink. CJ stood back and watched as Donna wet down Josh's hair and awkwardly began to massage the shampoo into the soft, chestnut brown curls. She used the dish spray to rinse his hair then shampooed again. CJ noticed as the tension in Josh's face and shoulders faded while Donna sprayed the warm water through his hair and lathered and rinsed the shampoo out again. Donna had visibly relaxed as she concentrated on the task and became comfortable with the intimacy of the act. As CJ watched Donna massage the conditioner through Josh's curls she started to feel uncomfortable --like she was being a voyeur. It was too intimate. For Josh and Donna this was no longer a chore. It was a sensuous act. It was as if they were making love before her eyes.

"uh... Donna! I think you've got it. You've rinsed his hair -like- six times now."

"Hummm?" Donna said snapping out of the spell. "Oh, right." She blushed slightly as she cut off the water, then began blotting Josh's hair dry with the extra towel.

Josh complied with the order to pull his chair into the center of the kitchen so that CJ could stand behind him. Now it was Donna's turn to watch as CJ combed the wet curls back from his forehead, accentuating the receding hair line. He definitely looks better with the curls, she thought. Not that it was any of her business how he wore his hair. She sternly reminded herself that he was her employer and their increased friendship and familiarity would probably end as soon as he could manage for himself.

CJ combed out a section of his hair and expertly snagged it with her fingers. She carefully examined the inch of hair sticking out above her fingers and looked over at Donna for her opinion. At Donna's frown, she slid her fingers further towards the ends. Donna smiled in agreement and CJ snipped off a half-inch. Josh forlornly watched as the snipped hair fell to his lap, followed by another...

"You know what you're doing, right?" he asked.

"It'll grow back. Relax."

"That gives me a world of confidence in your skills there, CJ."

"Shut up. I'm concentrating. I haven't done this lately."

A few minutes of the sound of scissors snipping hair was broken by the ringing of the doorbell.

"That'll be Toby. He was coming over after the Labor Day thing," CJ explained as Donna headed to the door.

Toby followed Donna into the kitchen a moment later and saw Josh with the towel around his shoulders with CJ cutting his hair. Josh, typically, was trying to look both macho and nonchalant. But, to Toby it seemed that Josh had exactly the same expression that his old family dog had had when being forced to play dress-up by his two sisters. Toby laughed.

"When they break out the makeup, Josh. Run!"

"No sh-"

"Hey! Watch it buster," CJ reprimanded. "I have scissors and you don't have that much hair as it is."

"You're actually letting CJ cut your hair?"

"She's had experience," Josh explained.

"Two weeks sweeping floors at a beauty salon when she was 16."

"What! You said you spent two summers at SuperClippers!"

"Okay, so... I exaggerated. I have you know I learned a lot in those two weeks!" she said indignantly.

"Where's a mirror." Josh growled.

"You look good, Josh." Donna assured, handing him a mirror, then blushing as Josh made eye contact with her.

"I do?" He looked in the mirror. "I do, don't I."

"Yeah, Josh. Your fan club won't disown you," CJ retorted. "I told you to trust me. Don't ever doubt me again. I am invincible! I am woman!"

"Oh God!" Toby and Josh both moaned.

* * *

** Friday, September 15, 2000 **

Mary Lyman let Chief of Staff Leo McGarry into Josh's apartment late one night after she'd been back about a week.

Leo kissed the silver haired woman on the cheek and said, "How's he doing tonight?"

"He's asleep. I was about to make some decaf Earl Grey. You want some? Or I can make some coffee... It's decaf though."

"Maybe a glass of water... I'll just..." he motioned towards Josh's room.

"Sure... The medication knocks him out at night. You won't disturb him. I'll be in the kitchen."

Leo stepped into the bedroom and let his eyesight adjust to the dark room. A large grey cat followed him into the bedroom, jumped up on the foot of the bed, and proceeded to give himself a bath. Leo walked over to the bed and looked down at his sleeping deputy and surrogate son, thankful to be able to look at him period. He reached out and gently adjusted the bedcovers, brushing his fingers over Josh's shoulder in passing. He turned abruptly and left, carefully leaving the bedroom door slightly ajar so the cat could come and go.

Leo stood at the kitchen door and watched as Mary made the tea. She'd been a tea-drinking Anglophile as long as he'd known her, and that had been over thirty years. He'd met her a few time at office functions back when he and Noah had worked for the same law firm. He'd always enjoyed joining in on the lively discussions that seemed to develop whenever Noah and Mary were around. They were always laughing and flirting, nevermind that they'd been married 15 years. They'd never really been close friends back then though. Noah and Mary had each other and their kids and he and Jenny had just gotten married. Then Mallory came along. It wasn't until later -after the fire- that he'd really become friends with Noah.

He'd first seen Josh at the funeral. Josh was nine or ten. All awkward limbs, bushy chestnut curls, and the eyes of a soldier straight out of the trenches of World War I. Josh wasn't the only one looking shell-shocked though. Noah and Mary looked just as devastated. Losing a child! He couldn't imagine how awful that must be. And all because some lousy 20-buck popcorn maker had shorted out. Noah had told him about it years later over too many drinks when Mary had taken Josh and fled to England on a whirlwind tour to forget the anniversary.

Joanie had run upstairs to get her cello and had been overcome by the smoke. Mary had just gone down to the neighborhood grocery store. She was only gone 20 or 30 minutes...She'd come home to find fire trucks and police cars at the house. Josh was standing on the front lawn, the cat in his arms and tears streaming down his face. No one had told him, but he knew. He knew his sister wasn't there with him. The police had already called Noah by that time. He arrived as they carried Joanie out of the house. They laid her on the ground. They gave her oxygen. They gave her CPR. They called the time of death. The soggy grocery sack lay torn open on the ground. The fragile birthday candles crushed underfoot. A can of chocolate frosting wobbled against the pulsating fire hose. It was Noah Lyman's 40th birthday and he was about to start a new life.

"Penny for your thoughts."

"Huh?"

"A penny for your thoughts. You looked deep in thought there," Mary said as she set the tea tray on the kitchen table.

"Oh...uh... I was just thinking how good it'll be to have Josh back, even if it isn't in time to push for the Midterm elections as we'd hoped."

"Ah..." she replied in a tone that suggested skepticism but respected his privacy. She opened the cabinet and pulled out a glass.

"Actually," he sighed as he walked towards the kitchen table, "that's not what I was thinking about -- although it will be good to have him back. I was thinking about..." he shrugged and said cautiously, 'the fire."

Mary didn't reply. She went to the freezer and put some ice in the glass. Then she went to the sink and turned on the water. Finally, she brought the water to Leo and sat down at the table. Leo sat down and watched Mary pour a cup of tea and added some milk. He didn't know whether he should speak or wait longer. Finally, as he was about to apologize, she spoke.

"I think about her almost every day, you know. I like to think she's a cellist with the Los Angeles Philharmonic, or some place on the West Coast and that's why I don't get to see her. But we talk every week. I imagine that she has three kids. An older boy and girl, and a later surprise. I waffle back and forth as to whether that's a boy or a girl. I put on Yo-Yo Ma and imagine that's her playing... Maybe I'm just making it worse for myself. Denying reality and all that."

"If it brings you comfort..."

"Other times I realize how lucky I am that I only lost Joanie that day. Then I feel terrible for feeling lucky. But I know I am because I still have Josh. Josh was always my baby. Joanie was so independent and headstrong. She shut herself away and played her music... And... I feel like somehow it's my fault she died. Because I loved Josh more!" she said, her voice rising to near hysteria.

"Mary, that's not true. Kids are different, but I'm sure you loved her just as much..."

"Josh blames himself, you know. We saw a family counselor a couple of times after... Josh just seemed to withdraw."

"I remember."

"I don't think we ever convinced him that he had nothing to do with it. It wasn't his fault. He thinks it's because he wanted popcorn... but that was the night before the fire! It just all merged together in his head. But I think how I could have lost Josh and Noah too! What if that damn popcorn maker had shorted out at night when we were all asleep! We never though a thing about leaving it plugged in. I thank God that I didn't lose them too. I..." she shook her head and put her hands to her face at the hopeless cycle of guilt and thankfulness that trapped her thoughts.

"Mary... No..."

"Leo, this is twice I've almost lost Josh. I don't want there to be a third time. I can't expect to be so lucky a third time," Mary appealed wiping her tears with her hand.

"Mary. I swear to you. There won't be a third time. I'll make sure of it. There won't be a third time. He's like a son to me, you know. Hell, he's like a son to President Bartlet too. I think we may get into a fight someday over who gets to play father to him," Leo said wryly, trying to lighten the mood.

Mary sniffed and smiled, "I can see it now 'Today in the Nation's Capital, President Josiah Bartlet and Chief of Staff Leo McGarry came to blows in the Oval Office over which man would make the better surrogate father to Deputy Chief of Staff Joshua Lyman. Film at 11!'"

"Don't laugh. That man's always wanted a son."

"I don't think you have to worry Leo. Josh idolizes you."

Leo just shrugged, but Mary knew he was pleased. She sniffed, smiled, and sipped her tea and gave a silent prayer of thanks.

* * *


	3. Happy Birthday, Mr. Lyman 3

 

Happy Birthday Mr. Lyman, Part 3 of 4 By: Jenna

Still PG, Still General/J&D, and alas, Josh et al are still not mine. Hope you enjoy. Anything I failed to adequately address can always be covered in 'The Schedule', just let me know.

* * Saturday, September 23, 2000 * *

"Hey Josh. Where is everyone?" Communications Director Toby Ziegler said looking around expecting to see his co-workers as Josh let him in the apartment.

"CJ and Sam just made a run to the grocery store for beer and to pick up the pizza. Donna's in the kitchen, and my mom's taking the opportunity to spend the weekend with an old friend in Arlington. Come on in the kitchen," Josh lead the way and promptly snitched a celery stick out of Donna's hand as she was just about to artfully arrange it on a veggie tray.

"Hey Toby. Want a veggie?" She said holding out the tray.

"I'm from Brooklyn. I don't eat anything raw. The closest thing I eat to raw vegetables is sauerkraut."

"You're kidding!" Josh exclaimed in disbelief. "You don't eat veggies?"

"Since when did you become a health nut?" Toby responded without thought. He realized immediately what he'd said and one look at Donna's shocked expression and Josh's blank look made him aware they'd caught it too. He cleared his throat, grimaced, and rubbing his forehead mumbled, "Sorry."

"No. It's okay. You can mention it... I mean... we all know it happened. It' not like it should never be mentioned in front of me, or anything. Jeez, I'm not some basket case over it. I don't even remember it, you know. Don't sweat it."

"You sure? 'Cause I really want to nail those bastards. There's a lot more than Carl Leroy out there just waiting to remake America in their own twisted image. The President and Leo -- they won't listen to me anymore -- but, you're their golden boy-- they'd listen to you. We have a chance -- a once in a lifetime opportunity-- to strike a devastating blow to the hate groups in this country, Josh. We've got public opinion on our side. The President's rating's at 75%. We can do this Josh."

Josh watched in surprise as Toby got more and more zealous in his fervor to destroy the hate groups. He'd frequently seen Toby work up a head of steam over some issue or another, but this was just a little off -- a little too extreme. Here he was advocating stripping people's rights instead of defending them.

"Toby..." he gently said. "I can't use this as a personal crusade..."

"Sure you can, Josh. You just say the word and the President--"

"No... Toby... The President would never support legislation to roll back the Bill of Rights. Toby... This isn't-- This isn't like you..."

"I got shot at! The President was shot! You-- " his voice broke and he turned away squeezing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"Hey! We're back!" They heard CJ yell from the living room as she entered the apartment.

"The pizzaman is here! Come and get it while it's hot!" Sam added.

Josh cocked his head towards the living room but replied to Toby as if there had been no interruption. "Yeah. But it's still wrong. It's not -- it's not who we are..." he concluded quoting his mentor, Chief of Staff Leo McGarry.

CJ pushed open the swinging kitchen door and stuck her head in the door. The smile dropped from her face as she took in the tableau in front of her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing" Toby responded turning back with a forced smile. "There's nothing wrong."

"Okay..." CJ decided not to press the issue. She'd find out later and would deal with it when Toby settled down. If he'd been haranguing Josh or upsetting him enough to cause any setback there'd be hell to pay. Judging from Donna's expression Toby might find himself banished from Josh's presence for yet another week. "The game's about to start." She motioned with her head that they should join her.

The friends quietly trooped into the living room where Sam was tuning in Josh's big-screen TV to watch the Olympic baseball game between Team USA and Cuba. Conversation slowly returned to everyday banalities and teasing as the pizza and beer were consumed. Donna allowed Josh two small sips of her beer figuring he'd metabolize that before his nightly regime of pills -- about half of what he'd started out taking. Still, she adamantly refused to allow him a third sip and he was relegated to Sprite for the rest of the evening. He groused about not even being allowed the caffeine in a Coke.

The game was meaningless, both teams were already set for the medal round, but it wasn't supposed to be a rout --the US had at least been expected to put up a good show. Down four-zip, the bench-clearing brawl in the fourth when the Cuban pitcher deliberately hit a US batter was the only interesting thing about the game. Josh, who had been nodding off before the brawl, was drifting again by the bottom of the fifth and sound asleep by the seventh inning. CJ asked if they should leave, but Donna assured them they should stay as she pulled the afghan off the back of the sofa, tossed it over Josh, and then pulled his feet into her lap so he was stretched out on the sofa. She casually draped her hands across his ankles and went back to pretending an interest in the game. He woke up later when Toby started yelling over a call he didn't like. Josh promptly denied he'd been asleep but didn't bother sitting back up. He was asleep again in five minutes. He woke up in time for the game to end, and sleepily helped tidy up the mess, and say goodnight to CJ and Toby.

Sam stayed a bit longer to make sure Josh didn't need him for anything and to confirm his plans for picking up Mary Lyman at her friend's house tomorrow afternoon and bringing her back to Josh's. Donna and Mary had decided that Donna would play it by ear on whether or not she should stay the night. Theoretically, Josh should be just fine by himself for the night, but they hadn't left him completely along at night since he 'd been shot. Donna finished up in the kitchen and joined Josh and Sam by the front door as they finalized plans for tomorrow. Josh looked to be about dead on his feet. He'd be asleep again before they got to their cars. She wasn't sure he'd even make it as far as his room. If he forgot to take his pills...

"Are you gonna be all right if I leave?" she asked.

"Donna... I'm fine. Go home." He yawned and swayed a bit, which Donna didn't find at all reassuring or supportive of Josh's argument that he could manage on his own.

"'Cause I can stay..."

"I don't need a babysitter. I'm a big boy. I can brush my teeth and everything."

"Well, okay..." she walked over and grabbed her purse and jacket. Putting her jacket on, she said, "Don't forget to take your meds. Maybe I should just--"

"Donna..." he whined. "I'm fine. I'll take the pills. Get some sleep." He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Donna's mouth fell open in shock. Sam was startled, and then he realized that Josh was half asleep and probably wasn't even aware of what he'd just done.

"uh... Josh... did you just kiss Donna?" he asked diplomatically.

"Huh... I'm sorry?" Josh blinked.

"You just kissed Donna. You never kiss Donna. I mean, you hug her on her birthday or Christmas maybe, but you don't--"

"What? Of course I didn't kiss Donna. She's my assistant!"

"uh... Point of fact -- you just did."

"Well... uh... so what if I did. She's my assistant. People kiss their assistants all the time. To... you know... show their appreciation... for everything they've done... "

"Josh," He took Josh by the shoulders and turned him around and gave him a slight push in the direction of the bedroom. "Go get ready for bed." He turned back to Donna. "I'll just make sure Josh gets his meds and goes to bed. He seems a little confused. We'll see you tomorrow."

Donna put her hand to her cheek and said "Yeah..." then turned and crashed into the closed door. Smiling, Sam gently pulled her away, opened the door, and then turned her towards the open door.

"Goodnight."

"Yeah..."

"Donna, you have to move now. Do you remember where your car is?"

"Oh my God! He--"

"Goodnight, Donna."

* * *

As expected, Josh and Donna both pooh-poohed the notion that Josh kissing her on the cheek, however close to her mouth it might have been, was anything other than a simple reflection of his friendship and appreciation. To Sam and Mary's endless amusement, Josh insisted that there was nothing at all revealing in the gesture. Everyone knew that he had both friendship and appreciation for Donna. Even more so since he had become so dependent on her help since the shooting. The end result was that CJ also earned a quick, stilted kiss on the cheek for her friendship and help. Sam and Toby threatened him with bodily harm if he tried to kiss them. Toby settled for a handshake and Sam staved off any awkwardness to the situation by pulling Josh into a bear hug -- albeit a gentle one so as not to hurt his chest.

Leo heard that Josh was making deliberate attempts to show his affection for his support team by doling out hugs and kisses. He debated whether to take advantage of the opportunity and give Josh the hug that he'd evidently wanted before the shooting. A gesture of affection that Leo wished he'd made ever since the devastating moment he saw his protégé wheeled into George Washington with his lifeblood seeping away. Leo was torn between staying away out of embarrassment over the hokeness of showing his affection for Josh and the desire to be forced to show that affection under the pretext that it was Josh's doing. Actually coming out and expressing his affection for Josh was too difficult. In the end, he went to visit, but Josh, afraid of Leo laughing at him a second time did not attempt to hug Leo, and Leo did not reach out.

* * Tuesday October 3, 2000

Donna Moss and Mary Lyman sat at the kitchen table and chatted over a pot of hot tea while waiting keeping an eye on the roast in the oven and an ear out for screams from the living room. Josh was in the process of being tortured -- as he put it -- by the physical therapist whose latest abuse involved rebuilding Josh's upper body strength by having him lift and hold weights with his arms out parallel to the floor. Since this was a new set of exercises, Sam was also present learning how many of each exercise and how long to have Josh hold the position for the days that he worked with Josh instead.

The women knew that Josh thought it bad enough that he had to have Sam there to witness his humiliation, he sure didn't want his mother and Donna wandering through the room. That would have demoralized him completely. As had been their habit since the beginning of his physical therapy, they stayed out of sight whenever he was learning new exercises. It wasn't a problem to wander through after the exercises were 'cake' to Josh and he could brag about how well he was doing, but they let him retain his dignity when he was struggling. If Josh realized that the paper-thin walls allowed them to perfectly hear his groans, occasional cries of pain, and frequent protests over the impossibility of his doing the difficult exercises, neither he nor they ever mentioned it.

Sam, like the therapist, turned a deaf ear to Josh's complaints and just told him, "Good... Now do it again."

Josh's weights sat in the corner, waiting for him to have the strength to use them again. When dressed in his business suit, Josh looked the typical lazy, out of shape, pasty-faced backroom politician. He used that deception to lull the opposition into a false sense of security. They quickly learned why he was the pit bull of the Bartlet administration. Anyone who saw him jogging, playing basketball, or working off some excess energy in the White House gym could easily tell he was neither pudgy nor lazy. But now the muscles were soft and the man who could bench-press 300 pounds without batting an eye was left shaking when he had to hold 10-pound dumbbells out to his side for 20 seconds at a time.

Sam held Josh's knees in place while the therapist coached him to do sit-ups. He could barely do five before falling back to the carpet, trembling from exhaustion, with beads of sweat lining his upper lip. The session ended late and the therapist had to leave without giving Josh his usual massage. Sam gave Josh a hand and pulled him to his feet as the therapist departed.

"You okay? Sam asked looking at his exhausted friend. "You want to take a shower? I'll--" he shrugged towards the kitchen where he knew that Donna and Mary were preparing dinner.

"Yeah. A hot shower'd feel good. I won't be long." Josh said straightening his posture and trying valiantly to walk out of the room as if he wasn't sore and aching over every inch of his body.

Sam watched after his friend knowing that there was nothing he could do to magically return Josh to the way he was before the shooting. All any of them could do now was to encourage him and push him until he got past the pain and was able to return to a state approximating his old self. The prospect that Josh would ever be able to bench press 300 pounds again wasn't good, but that was supremely unimportant when compared to the fact that Josh could stand, and walk, and think at all.

They'd been scared when Dr. Bartlet had told them that the oxygen had been cut off to his brain... They'd all thought he was fine. He'd been mumbling something about Nashua, so surely his brain hadn't been without oxygen for too long... Sam'd been back at the hospital Tuesday afternoon when the anesthesiologist had come in into the waiting room to let them know that Josh should be waking up soon and asked who's voices he'd most likely respond to out of deep sleep. There was no question that he'd feel he had to respond if it were the President or Leo. Since the President had gotten out of his own sickbed to walk down just to see Josh for a few minutes in the operating room, and had specifically stated that he wanted to see Josh again as soon as he woke up, it was a given that he would oblige. Leo'd gone along, gruffly pretending that he wasn't in the least bit worried about Josh.

They'd all let out a collective sigh when the President had told them Josh had asked, "What's next?" They laughed for the first time in 16 hours and 37 minutes at that, and said 'wasn't that typical of Josh. Having to make a smart-ass clever remark even coming out of recovery.' Josh had been wheeled to ICU a few minutes later, and they'd gotten a glimpse of his pale features as the orderlies whisked the gurney into the elevator. Sam barely recognized Josh as he passed. He thought it was a stranger being moved from the Recovery Room. The Josh he knew was life itself. This was some imitation of Josh lacking the vibrant charisma that filled any room with his presence.

Sam shook himself out of his reverie and went into the kitchen to tell Mary and Donna that Josh was taking a quick shower before dinner.

"Hey, Sam. How'd it go?" Donna asked as he came into the kitchen.

"Difficult, Sam replied tersely.

"Josh doesn't like--"

"No, I don't mean... I don't mean that. I mean, Josh is, but he's entitled to that. I mean it really was difficult for him." Sam paused and looked over at Mary preparing to put some brown-n-serve rolls in the oven. "He's taking a shower now. It'll be a few minutes yet."

"Sam?" Donna asked softly, noticing that Sam seemed less in control than usual.

"Sam. Is everything all right at work?" Mary asked, setting the pan of rolls back on the counter to wait for Josh.

Sam sighed and looked away. "It's just... Today I had to go to the Hill and meet with some Congressional aides on some pork-barrel project their guys wanted funded. After the meeting, I walked up on two of them joking about the shooting. Saying it was too bad the West Virginia White Pride were such bad shots, and you'd expect Hillbillies to be able to shoot better than that."

"Oh God. Sam." Donna said shocked that anyone in the Bartlet administration had heard something so crass.

"I lost it. I told them their bosses would not be getting any support from us and they'd hear why. I told them they'd better polish up their resumes and prepare to move, 'cause they were through in Washington. I was so angry... I wanted to-- I came this close" he held his fingers a half-inch apart, "to slamming this one ass-- jerk... up against the wall when he tried to defend their laughter saying 'It's not like Lyman died, or anything.' 'Or anything'... Can you believe that?"

"Sam..." Mary walked over and took Sam's arm, and led him to the kitchen table to sit down.

"Like it's nothing. Like Josh just walked away--" Sam struggled to find words and control his emotions. "It's just that--"

"They don't have to see it. The daily struggle." Mary supplied rubbing his shoulder in comfort.

"Yeah."

Donna sat down and put a hand over Sam's hand. "Sometimes I wish CJ would just come out and tell the truth instead of just saying, 'And Joshua Lyman continues to recover nicely at home.' It seems so... inadequate."

"Yeah, but saying 'Josh Lyman continues to struggle to even tie his--" Sam broke off and looked away, blinking rapidly. Donna squeezed his hand. "I've gotta go--" Sam said jumping up from the table. He had to leave before he embarrassed himself by breaking down like a little kid. "Tell Josh something came up and I had to leave. Don't tell him... I don't want him to..."

"Sam..." Donna began then trailed off not knowing what to say to ease Sam's distress.

"Sam," Mary Lyman grasped his arm as he stood by the kitchen door. "When Noah was taking the chemo, he used to get so sick. He wondered why go through it? Why fight? Why not give up? Then Josh would call -- and he'd be so excited about the campaign and how Bartlet was catching up with Hoynes -- that Noah would get excited too. He tried so hard to hold on. Even when it became obvious that the cancer had spread... that there was no hope... he wanted to live to see his son 'win' the election." She smiled slightly and shook her head at the memory. "Josh will get through this. He has his father's will and he's not fighting a battle he can't possibly win. In some ways, I think it may be more difficult for us because there's so little we can do to help him. But you, and Donna, all of you, have been there for him. Giving him strength. It's okay to be angry. We're all angry. I..." She shook her head again, gathering her thoughts. "I never used to understand the desire for retribution -- the cycle of vengeance. I understand it now. I never thought I was capable of such hate..." she shook her head. "But, there's just nothing -- no vengeance -- that would ever be adequate reparation for what's happened to Josh any more than for the Holocaust, or the Oklahoma City bombing, or any other atrocity. We win by surviving this and not becoming monsters ourselves." She ran her hand up and down Sam's arm in comfort. "Josh is alive. We won this one. Come on, Sam. He'll be out in a minute. Stay for dinner."

* * *

Dinner was rather somber with Sam poking at his food and Josh grimacing every time he lifted his fork to his mouth. Donna and Mary tried to keep up a cheerful conversation about Donna's day at the office and Mary's eminent plans to abandon Josh to Donna's care and return to her own home in Hartford. Josh loved his mother dearly, and she loved him, but the constant companionship was starting to wear thin. Mary thought that was a good sign. It meant Josh was ready -- if not necessarily well enough -- to be back on his own.

"I talked to Mrs. Landingham today," Mary said.

"Mrs. Landingham called?" Josh asked. Sam quit poking at his food and looked up in interest as to why the President's secretary had called Mrs. Lyman.

"Yes. Is that so strange?"

"That she would call? No. I mean... It's just -- I didn't know you knew her," Josh answered.

"We talked a good bit at the hospital that first week when the President was there."

"Oh."

"She's stopping by tomorrow." Mary returned the conversation to her purpose. "She suggested a woman she knows through her church who cleans houses and what not. Someone who could look after you when I leave."

"I don't need anyone to look after me. I'm perfectly capable..."

"Joshua Lyman, you are not going to impose on Donna to change your sheets and clean your toilet. Do you hear me?" Mary asked firmly.

"No... I..." He looked at Donna and Sam for help. "I can do those things. And if I can get the doctor to agree to let me leave the house--"

"No!" was the unanimous shout from all three of his dinner companions.

"Don't even think about going outside, Josh" Donna asserted.

"Leo'd kill you. And if he didn't the President would send Ron Butterfield to personally do it for him." Sam stated in a perfectly serious tone.

"Josh, the flu's going around." Mary reminded him.

"Donna wouldn't let CJ in the same room with me this morning after she sneezed." Sam nodded, verifying the seriousness of the concern. "And the President made her sit off in the corner by herself at the staff meeting."

"Seriously? The President made--"

"Josh, the President doesn't take your health lightly. You are not allowed to have any more relapses. If CJ or any of us give you the flu, or so much as a sniffle, he's promised we'd be spending the winter as his liaison in Siberia." Sam explained wide-eyed. He wasn't totally sure the President could do that, but that Southern California boy wasn't going to risk finding out.

"Sam, the President wouldn't really send you to Siberia. He can't do that." Josh replied skeptically.

"He's the President, Josh. He can do pretty much whatever he wants."

"Yeah but --Siberia?"

"That's what Toby said, and the next thing we knew he was packing his bags for Kansas City. Or was it Carson City?

"The one with the casinos or the one with the cows?

"Josh," Donna joined in exasperated. "I'm pretty sure that neither of them have cows and both of them have casinos.

"Kansas City has cows. I distinctly remember cows. Granted they were bronze or something..."

"Those were bulls, Josh."

"Cows, bulls, what's the difference?"

"Joshua, I distinctly remember telling you the difference when you were seven," Mary smirked.

"I mean... I know the difference. I just meant they're all generic cows --cattle-- bovines or something..."

"Anyway," Mary returned to the subject, "you're still not allowed out of the house --except to go to the doctor, which reminds me you have an appointment next week. And even if you were allowed out and about you certainly don't have the strength to be lugging laundry and groceries up the stairs or cleaning house -- not that I think you ever did much of that before, mind you. You needed someone to clean for you before all this. You doubly need someone now.

"I can continue dropping the laundry off," Donna offered. "And, since I don't have to be at the office all hours anymore, I can pick up groceries so we can cook here. But I draw the line at cleaning your house. I have little enough time to clean my own apartment."

"No, of course not." Josh went into full guilt mode. "Donna I didn't mean to... I'm sorry... I shouldn't have imposed--"

"Josh. It's not an imposition. Sam and I, all of us, know you'd be there helping us if the situation were reversed."

"I would?" He asked uncertainly.

"Yes. You would. You're not nearly as much... you know... you as you think you are." Donna explained sincerely.

"Donna... You know, that made absolutely no sense whatsoever," Josh said with a gentle smile and showing a trace of the infamous Lyman dimples --the same dimples that had forever won his mother's heart for both the father and the son.

"It made sense to me." Sam blinked innocently.

Mary smiled. At least the kids were talking now. She'd talk to Delores Landingham tomorrow and arrange to meet the woman that her church was sponsoring to see whether she could be trusted to manage one very willful invalid.

* * * See 


	4. Happy Birthday, Mr. Lyman 4

 

Happy Birthday Mr. Lyman, Part 4 of 4 By: Jenna

* * * Mrs. Landingham stopped by the next afternoon with a batch of cookies and had a nice visit with Mary over a pot of tea after they packed Josh off to take a nap. The two older women were contemporaries in age and had a number of things in common. Mary Lyman had been luckier though. She'd only lost one child though she'd almost lost the second. Delores Landingham had lost both her sons in Vietnam. The two elderly widows reminisced about growing up during "The War" -- the real war, World War Two -- and having to ration and recycle. Of their mother's working in the factories because their fathers and so many other men were overseas. Of the changes they'd seen in just the last 20 years, let alone the last 50: the computers, the VCRs, DVD players, camcorders... The list was endless.

They remembered listening to the radio when President Roosevelt said that 'this day was a day that would live in infamy' as they cried over the horrible loss of life at Pearl Harbor. How both of their fathers had gone down to sign up the next day, only to find the line at the recruitment center already stretched around the block. They remembered the first time they'd seen 'television' in the window of the department store, and how crowds gathered to watch when President Roosevelt spoke about the end of the war. And how everyone celebrated in the streets until dawn. They reminisced about adorable little boys with curls and dimples and devious schemes, of blue-eyed tow-headed twins who always asked 'why', and little girls who lived in musical dreamlands... And they cried together for their loss and the pain that would never end.

* * *

Josh was convinced that the heavy set Jamaican woman that Mrs. Landingham sent over was a Voodoo priestess who would put a hex on him if he got out of line. Mary was so convinced that she would take good care of Josh, that she hired her to not only clean his apartment once a week, but to stop by several times a week to do whatever else needed doing. Donna was convinced that her unscheduled visits would ensure that Josh wouldn't dare try to sneak outside during the day now that no one was around to enforce that ban. Mama Rose was convinced that if the skinny blond woman just put some meat on her bones the poor man who was shot along with the President would marry her and she could have some babies like her own little ones.

* * Saturday, October 7, 2000 * *

With the arrangements made to have her much-recovered two-legged pet's cage cleaned and his food dish replenished, Mary Lyman packed up her four-legged pet and headed back to her own home in Hartford. Josh wandered around the apartment lonely and wishing that she could have stayed a little longer. Sure, he was a grown man and having his mother around was 'cramping his style' -- not that he had any 'style' to cramp. Even during the heyday of the election excitement and inaugural fever when he'd been on more than one magazine cover as the Bartlet administration's hottest bachelor, he'd had more offers than action. He'd broken up with Mandy and was free and clear --as long as he was discrete, he could have had any number of willing political groupies eager for the chance to say they'd been 'done' by 'the' Josh Lyman.

Maybe that was the problem. His pride was stung to realize that he wouldn't be using them so much as they'd be using him. He'd been there and done that already with Mandy. His guard was up against any woman trying to use his position to further her own ambitions now. The few women he'd taken up on their offers had been either powerful in their own right or had no political ambitions whatsoever. Oh, he certainly enjoyed the chase and flirted outrageously wherever and whenever he had the chance... But... he found he'd become less and less satisfied with meaningless liaisons and playing the game. Few of the slick, predatory women he encountered even pretended he was anything other than 'big game' to them.

There was little challenge when the outcome was a given, so his competitive spirit was seldom aroused for the hunt. Joey Lucas had been the last woman to arouse that spirit, and she'd turned out to be sleeping with the 'guy who bought the Devil's cigarettes' as Toby put it. She was an outrageous flirt and it had made him feel like 'hot stuff' to be the object of her obvious desire. Joey hadn't even given a moments notice to the much more traditionally handsome Sam. Josh frowned at his thoughts. Maybe that was because Sam wasn't nearly the 'catch' he was from a power perspective. Like the 'girls all getting pretty at closing time', all the politicians got handsome when they were in power. Power really was the greatest aphrodisiac.

Josh sighed. He thought that maybe... if he found someone nice... someone who would make him rest when he was exhausted... someone who would take care of him when he was sick... someone his mother would like --she'd have to want children too, his mother would want grandchildren... he might just maybe... someday... in the verrrrrry distant future... want to get married. Maybe someone like Donna, but not like -- Donna -- Donna was his assistant. He couldn't begin to think of Donna that way or else The Gates of Hell would open and the world would come to an end. Leo'd kill him, that's for sure.

Donna arrived back late that afternoon after taking Mary to the station and running errands. She put Josh to work slicing veggies for the salad while she browned the meat for the spaghetti. Josh sipped his sparkling water and watched mournfully as Donna sipped a glass of wine with her dinner. He couldn't even convince her to let him have a sip this time. She blamed the two sips of beer she'd allowed him to have the night of the baseball games as being to blame for his being so sleepy that he'd kissed her. It'd be another two weeks before he was allowed to have any alcohol. He should be happy that he was finally allowed the privilege of having one cup of real coffee in the mornings. His life had become a regime of pills, exercises, and things he couldn't have... Josh quietly helped Donna clean up the dishes and put the leftovers away. She noticed how quiet he was and mentioned that she really didn't need to head home right away if he wanted to watch a movie...

Donna hadn't rented anything and they'd already watched her entire collection of suitable tapes of shows off Masterpiece Theater and A&E numerous times while Mary was there. Josh's DVD collection was pretty sparse, half of it consisting of the five free movies he got for buying the DVD player. She picked out a comedy from among the free movies and hoped it didn't contain any car chases or shootouts. She'd noticed how Josh started fidgeting and would leave the room whenever the news got too close to the events of that bloody night at Rosslyn. Donna cut off the movie after 20 minutes when the guns came out.

"That does it Josh, No more movies that I haven't already seen. I'll see what I can borrow from the rest of the staff."

"Donna, I'm fine, really." Josh whined. "It's not like I'm going to get upset over a movie. I know the difference between reality and fiction. I don't need to be babied. It's not a problem. I can -- I am -- dealing with it fine. If it weren't for the weakness thing I'd be back at work. I'd be working here full time if Leo'd let me."

"You might can stand it Josh, but I can't," Donna explained bluntly. "I really should go... Are you going to be okay? I can go get some things and come back if you need me?"

"No... no... Go home and rest. I'll be fine... I'm pretty tired too." Josh was sorry for upsetting Donna about the movies and felt guilty over keeping her at his beck-and-call when she had her own life to live.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, go on home, Donna."

"'kay. I'll come over about noon."

"You can make it later, if you... I mean... I can fix my own lunch and all. Maybe you could come mid-afternoon and we can get some take-out. Save the leftover spaghetti..."

"You're not allowed--" Donna stopped and reconsidered. "I guess we can order out. It's not like you are eating junk food every day," Donna smiled as she gathered her belongings and headed for the door.

"About that. Thanks for... you know..."

"Yeah. No problem. See you tomorrow, Josh." She reached out at wrapped her arms around Josh's shoulders and pulled him into a hug. Josh shyly wrapped his arms around Donna's thin waist barely touching her in his awkward attempt to return the hug and affection without risking the chance that this could cross the safe and familiar line between boss and employee. Donna tightened the hug, swiftly kissed his left jaw just below his ear, released him, and fled out the door.

The apartment seemed so empty after Donna left. The loneliness returned in force. He'd gotten used to having his mother and Donna around. He tried to imagine they were in the kitchen or that his mother had just gone to her bedroom to read. It didn't work. The silence echoed around him. He sat down and turned on CNN, but it just reminded him there was no Oscar to come and jump in his lap and demand to be petted. He tried reading the latest 'Time' but he couldn't concentrate. He flipped through the pages and saw a tiny picture of himself bleeding on the concrete at Rosslyn surrounded by the hysterical crowd. He froze. A brief fragmentary flash of memory of screams and people rushing past assaulted him. Then the telephone rang. He jumped and stared at the phone. It rang again.

"Hello?"

"Eagle's on his way. ETA in five," was the cryptic message from Ron Butterfield before the line went dead.

"Donna!" he yelled before remembering she'd already left. He looked around the room to make sure it didn't look too bad, but fortunately between Mary, Donna, and Mama Rose, the place looked presentable. He hurriedly tidied up the DVD and magazines as a knock came at the door.

Josh opened the door and two secret service agents entered without more than a nod in greeting and began to sweep the apartment and made sure the curtains were drawn and the windows secured.

"Secure" the large black man said into his wrist radio as he took up a position by the front windows.

The other agent went to the door and opened it. A moment later the President appeared with Ron Butterfield. Ron and the agent at the door nodded to each other as the President entered the apartment. The first agent then stepped outside leaving Ron to stand guard inside the door.

"Josh, how are you?" President Bartlet said sweeping up to Josh and taking him by the arm. "Sit down, sit down," he said pulling on Josh's arm and sitting down on the sofa himself.

"Mr. President, I'm fine thank you for asking. You shouldn't have come. I mean, I...I can't think the Secret Service would--"

"Oh, they're fine, Josh. Ron lives for my little extra-curricular excursions. Don't you, Ron?"

Ron did not look amused.

"Well, maybe not." The President shrugged and stage-whispered. "He'll get over it. I heard your mother went home... I'm sorry I missed her. I meant to get by before she left."

"I'll tell her you asked after her, Sir."

"So tell me, how's the rehab going? I suppose they have you doing lots of exercises that make you feel like a dork."

"Yes, sir," Josh smiled at how the President understood how much he hated looking like the hapless nerd who couldn't climb the rope. In common with the President, his fiercely competitive nature had always had him excel in sports as well as his class work. Admittedly, he would never have made the football team, but he was on the tennis team and he could play a mean game of touch football or pick-up basketball. And unlike the President he didn't have to resort to ringers -- then again, he should hope to be in as good of shape as the President in another 20 years. "It's frustrating. I know I should be able to do them -- the exercises -- but--"

"But your body just won't cooperate."

"Yeah."

"Believe me, Josh, I understand." He patted Josh's arm and looked around the room then noticed the DVD case on the table. "Sam said you got a DVD player."

"Yes, sir. Or rather Sam and everybody pitched in and got it for me. They thought I should watch movies while I was recovering, but most of the movies are... you know... So we've mostly been watching Donna's tapes."

"Yeah. Abbey won't let me watch anything good either. She let's me watch 'Pride and Prejudice', that's about it.

"Yeah. We watched that too. I liked the part where--" He stopped, blushing in embarrassment realizing he was discussing Jane Austen with the President.

The President just sighed and said "We're whipped, Josh. We need to go on one of those retreats where the guys beat on drums and dance around the campfire."

"With all due respect, Mr. President. I'd rather watch Jane Austen with Donna. I mean-- not that Donna has to be there or anything... I just--" Josh stammered.

"I understand. Did you get surround sound?"

"For the DVD? No. Donna didn't want Zach drilling up my walls to run the wiring or me tripping over the speakers."

"She's probably right. Wait'll you buy a house, then you can have a home theater all wired in. "

"I can't imagine buying a house. You buy a house when you get married and start a family. I'm not likely to ever do that."

"Oh, never say 'never', Josh. Did I ever tell you I was gonna be a priest before I met Abbey? Really, I was. Next thing I know I'm married with a baby on the way. Don't be too sure you haven't already met your Abbey and just don't know it yet."

Josh thought briefly of Donna working in his kitchen like it was her own. He wondered again what it would be like to have someone to come home to everyday...

"Yes Sir." Josh replied then looked away awkwardly.

"Nevermind, Josh" The President smiled and patted him on the arm. "Just concentrate on getting well for now. I need you, you know. I know we kid you a lot and all, but don't ever doubt your worth to this administration -- to me. I want you back, son."

Josh looked wide-eyed at the President who, unlike Leo and himself, could so easily express his affection. He knew that the President thought of the staff as his extended family and felt a general affection for them, but the President referring to him as 'son' indicated that he was held in higher regard than he had realized. It was only a year ago when he was sure the President was going to fire him over the Mary Marsh incident and, realistically, he knew that he could still get fired anytime if he became a political liability.

"Mr. President... Thank you. I-- It's an honor to serve--"

The President started to stand, holding Josh down with a hand on his shoulder. "Get well and come back. The West Wing isn't the same without you." He leaned down and kissed Josh on the forehead. "I just wanted to show my appreciation. People kiss their assistants all the time, you know..." He swept out of the apartment with the Secret Service in his wake as Josh struggled to overcome his astonishment and get to his feet.

* * *

* * Saturday, October 21, 2000 * *

"Hey," Josh said quietly as he opened the door to let Sam Seaborn into his townhouse. Josh felt awful. He had not been looking forward to seeing Sam today. He wasn't even sure that Sam would come by to help with his rehab. He knew that Sam must have felt betrayed last night at Leo canceling the support for Tom Jordan's Congressional run. Sam had gotten his old college buddy to run assuring him of the White House's full backing. Now, circumstances had conspired to paint a fundamentally decent man as a racist. To the idealistic Sam still naïve to the ways of national politics it would seem as if the White House had cut and run. To the pragmatic Leo and Josh it had been a matter of saving limited funds to put them where they could still do some good and not throwing good money after bad. Whether Tom Jordan was a racist or not didn't matter, the perception of the truth that had painted the candidate with the same broad-brush strokes that defined the West Virginia White Pride. There were no shades of grey allowed in politics any more. Sam silently entered the apartment and hung his raincoat on the rack by the door.

"Sam... I'm sorry about Tom. That it didn't work out..."

"It's fine, Josh. That's the way it goes sometime. I just... I just wish there was something I could have done. I was told not to even call and explain. Just to-- It just doesn't seem right." He headed to the mat and motioned Josh to start his stretching exercises.

"Yeah." Josh replied as sat down on the mat and commenced the routine stretching. "Welcome to my world. Do you regret--"

"No! No, Josh. This... this is a dream come true. It's the greatest experience I could ever have. I could never regret working in the White House. Being a part of history. I'll always mark the day you showed up dripping all over the offices of Gage-Whitney and pulled me out of that meeting as the turning point in my life. It's the day I gave up playing at the life my Dad wanted for me and started really living the life I wanted. I'd never regret walking out of there."

"You didn't sign on for getting shot at." Josh said putting his knees together and preparing to do his sit-ups.

Sam grasped Josh's knees to hold them in place. "But I did." He replied. "I didn't expect it to really happen. I certainly didn't expect you to get shot, or for it to be the President's bodyman the shooters really wanted. But I knew that it was a possibility that someone would shoot at us. It's happened too many times in recent history not to be a possibility. Didn't you ever think about it? I mean someone shooting the President, not getting shot yourself."

Josh finished his sit-ups and moved to the weight set. He lay down on the bench and braced his feet. Sam moved over to spot him while he lifted the 100-pound sissy weights.

"Yeah" He responded quietly. "I worried about it almost constantly when we were campaigning in California. I couldn't help but remember Bobby Kennedy. I was just a little kid when he was assassinated. Seven or eight. But I remember how upset my parents and all the adults were. I knew something really bad had happened. My Dad explained that he was a great man. He would have been President and how he'd never have the chance, and we'd never know what kind of world we might have had. I thought about that throughout prep school and college. I think it made me go into politics and not practice law. I wanted to be a part of Camelot. I wanted to see the dreams of a better world come true. So, yeah, I thought about it a lot. I lived in terror that the dream of a Bartlet legacy would die before the election was ever held."

"Josh... you should have said something. Sometimes it helps to talk--"

Josh snorted, "That's why I've had a therapist since I was nine. But talking doesn't change anything. It's either gonna happen or it not."

"Josh, I'm not talking about a therapist. Just your friends. If something's bothering you, you should talk to us."

"Yeah. I'll keep that in mind." Josh said and changed the subject. The last thing he intended to do was get all mushy talking about his emotional baggage with his friends. Friends were for helping him forget his problems, not reliving them.

* * *

* * Tuesday, November 7, 2000 * *

Election day had arrived and now the polls had closed in California. CJ and Toby had called and were on their way with beer; Sam would be by later. The rain had finally stopped and Donna had agreed to allow Josh to sit out on the front steps for half-an-hour if he agreed to change his grubby sweat pants for the pajamas that CJ had bought him. Josh was to return to work next week, albeit part time. He wanted to take part in meetings between the African delegates at the giant pharmaceutical companies about providing low-cost drugs to Africa to fight the AIDS epidemic that was devastating the continent.

Toby and CJ arrived and joined them on the steps. Sam pulled up and parked but was on the phone and waited to finish his conversation before walking over. He announced that the results had left a political makeup identical to that before the election. All the money and all the time spent had made no difference.

"We should have a party anyway." CJ commented. We can still celebrate your coming back to work... or your birthday... Don't you turn 40 next month?"

"Yeah. December 21st. I never much celebrated it because it was at Christmas and Hanukah, so they always overshadowed it."

"I think that's the date for the Congressional Christmas Party," Sam added. "Yo-Yo Ma is scheduled for that.

"Yo-Yo Ma's playing? I love him!" Donna looked speculatively at Josh sizing up her chances for getting him to get her an invitation.

Josh gave Donna a sideways glance knowing exactly what she was thinking. He'd definitely have to tease her with a refusal or two before he produced the invitation. Yo-Yo Ma, Donna attending the party with him, and a party for his 40th birthday, life was looking up. He'd definitely let them talk him into a birthday party this year. It wasn't every year a guy turned 40, and he was ready to start a new life.

* * * The end

* * *


	5. Epilogue

 

Happy Birthday Mr. Lyman: Epilogue By Jenna

* * Monday night, Christmas Eve, 2000 * *

White House Communications Director Toby Ziegler paced up and down the sidewalk in front of the Georgetown townhome smoking a cigar. Press Secretary C.J. Cregg sat on the steps, a newspaper protecting her black wool dress coat from the concrete and insulating her from the chill of the step. A couple of six packs of beer sat at her side and two beers had been removed. CJ idly peeled at the label of one of her beer, while Toby's was perched on the stonework at the bottom of the stairs so that he could grab it as he paced by.

"They should've been here by now." He said pausing at the stairs and picking up his beer to take a drink.

"Relax Toby. The Emergency Room was probably backed up," His companion replied.

A black BMW pulled up and parked and Sam Seaborn got out and walked over to join them.

"Hey!" CJ called, "I thought you had a flight to California."

"I stayed." He replied succinctly coming up to grab a beer. "They're on their way."

"You talked to Josh?"

"Donna." He replied with a quick shake of his head. "Just enough to know they'll be here soon. He doesn't know we're here."

"Damn stoic stubborn martyr!" Toby exclaimed in frustration pivoting and walking away from the steps.

CJ and Sam looked at each other and raised their eyebrows. An old blue Mazda turned onto the street at pulled into Josh's parking space. CJ stood up and picked up the newspaper she been sitting on and one of the six-packs. Sam grabbed up the other six-pack as he took a swig from his beer.

Donna got out of the driver's seat and looked over at the three companions, her sad concern visible in the light from the streetlamps. She grabbed Josh's backpack from the back seat and waited while he prepared to face the music -- a different form of music but just as emotionally devastating as that which triggered the post-traumatic stress disorder that had stolen his composure and almost his life. Josh liked to think of himself as Mr. Invincible, the Macho-Man with a Plan who could make Republicans quake and co-eds swoon. He didn't like being the guy who had to beg his friends for help just to get through the night.

Josh got out of the car and hunched his shoulders as he slowly walked towards his friends. He stopped and looked up into their concerned faces and made a self-deprecating shrug. What could he say?

Toby, closest to him, walked over and put a hand on his back and guided him to the door. "Let's go inside."

Donna unlocked the apartment and led the way into the townhouse. She noticed the single sheet of glass in the window temporarily replacing the delicate paneled frame that Josh had smashed out with the palm of his hand during the wee hours two days before. Donna walked over to the window and pulled the curtains. She turned back to see Josh staring at the window. The others had noticed Josh's stillness and followed the path of his eyes to the obviously replaced window.

"Josh?" Sam asked softly. "Can I help you with your coat?"

"Huh?"

"Your coat. You don't want to... you know... hurt your hand trying to get it off..."

"Yeah." Josh undid the sash and Sam gently tugged the overcoat off his shoulders and eased the left sleeve over the freshly bandaged hand. The old bandage that Josh had fashioned had been replaced by a starkly white professionally bandage that appeared to be more than twice the amount of dressing that could possibly be needed. Certainly it would garner attention and sympathy -- two things Josh would rather not have because of the necessity for explanation they'd incur.

"So what'd the doctor say?" Toby asked bluntly as he flopped down in an easy chair and put his feet on the coffee table.

"Stanley Keyworth?" Josh asked startled at the bluntness of the question.

"I think we can guess what he said. I was referring to your hand," Toby replied using the bottom of his beer bottle to point towards Josh's bandaged hand.

"Oh," Josh said relaxing his shoulders in relief at not being put on the spot about his mental health just yet. He sat down on the sofa and CJ joined him, handing him a beer after getting a nod of 'okay' from Donna. "It'll be fine." He shot Donna a look that appealed to her to give the gory details as she saw fit based on whatever the others already knew.

"They gave him a local anesthesia while they cleaned it out and gave him a shot. And he has to take antibiotics for ten days," she said rattling the pill bottle. "But he was lucky, there wasn't any serious damage."

Josh snorted at Donna's use of the term 'lucky'. "They asked me if I'd had a tetanus shot lately... Must have missed all the TV coverage last summer or they would've--" He faltered, not really needing to explain that obviously he would have received a tetanus shot at that time whether he needed one or not. In fact, he hadn't needed one, the doctor said they're good for five -- or was it ten-- years and he and the rest of the Senior Staff had every shot imaginable just after the inauguration in preparation for the President's trip to India and Hong Kong that spring. But giving him an unneeded tetanus shot was easier than getting his medical records. He certainly had been in no shape to tell them, and Donna wasn't there... Donna could have told them... He shook his head to clear his thought -- why was he obsessing over a tetanus shot? He took a drink from his beer and brought his attention back to his friends sitting around the room staring off into space or casting furtive glances at each other, trying desperately not to stare at him.

"Sorry... I fazed-out there a bit..." he muttered softly.

"Josh?" Toby asked softly clearing his throat. "Are... are you having flashbacks of the shooting?"

There it was. It was on the table now. Josh stared at Toby, his eyes wide and his jaw slack. He swallowed, lowered his eyes, and nodded.

The others breathed in relief.

"It's PTSD then? He did diagnose post-traumatic stress?"

"Yeah."

"You put your hand through that window?" Toby nodded to the drapes covering the replacement window.

Josh nodded in the affirmative. "I... I couldn't make it stop. It kept happening over and over... the music... the sirens... the screams... the--" he hesitated and swallowed. "the shots..." he finished very softly.

"So you thought putting your hand through the window would make it stop?" Sam asked with hurt sarcasm from his perch on a chest near the TV.

"Yeah." Josh replied with a wry grimace. "Though I don't think there was much 'thinking' involved.

"No shit." CJ responded with sarcastic vehemence and removed her feet from the coffee table to sit up and glare at her friend. "Josh, we're your friends! If you're having problems, you call us!

Josh glance up looking both guilty and stubborn. "I..." He swallowed and looked away. "The President could still fire me...Leo says I'll keep my job, but...that's not his call. There's no way we can keep this quiet for the next six years. If it gets out... if I'm a liability... he'll have to fire me..."

"Is that what this is about?" CJ fumed "That's why you didn't say anything? Why you let this get to the point where you almost killed yourself?"

"I didn't--"

"You were afraid the President would fire you?" CJ voice had gotten higher and louder as she ranted at Josh, trying to break through the self-protective barriers he kept so firmly in place. "God, Josh!" Her voice turned to pure anguish. "You bastard."

"CJ" Sam said sharply.

"CJ, I don't think..." Toby said simultaneously.

"No!" CJ held out a hand to stop their protest. "You scared the shit out of us, Josh," she said more softly but still with heart-rending anguish. Talk to us!" She reached out to touch his arm.

"What do you want me to say?" Josh lashed back in anger jerking away from her touch. "That getting shot sucks! Fine. It sucks! That I don't know what's happening to me? I don't. That I don't know if I'll ever be normal again--" He broke off and jumped up from the sofa knocking the coffee table and making the beers rattle precariously. He walked towards the kitchen but stopped knowing he couldn't run away from the situation. His friends surrounded him, and they were his friends. They'd already proven their loyalty and deep personal affection in caring for him during his long months of recovery. He leaned an arm against the doorframe and breathed heavily while he regained his composure.

"I'm sorry he said, his back still turned to the group. I apologize. You're right CJ. I should have talked to someone when I first started-- I... I'm just really tired..."

CJ and Toby stood up; taking the hint that Josh wanted them to leave. Toby muttered a soft goodbye and CJ squeezed Josh's shoulder as she passed. He did not turn around until the door closed behind them. He sighed knowing that Sam and Donna would not leave without seeing him safely to bed.

Donna looked at Josh then turned to Sam and said, "I'll get you a blanket and pillow. Can you--" she nodded towards Josh.

"Sure. Come on, Josh. I'll help you get ready for bed."

"Guys... Really... You don't have to stay. I'm not going to kill myself, you know."

"We know. But we're staying anyway." Sam replied motioning for Josh to head to the bedroom.

"Weren't you supposed to fly to California this afternoon?" Josh asked.

Sam shrugged and put his hand on Josh's shoulder guiding him to the bedroom to help get the suit coat and shirtsleeve off past the bandage. "I stayed."

* * *

Sam Seaborn stared up at the shadows dancing on the ceiling of Josh's townhouse. He could hear the sounds from Josh's room as he tossed and turned and occasionally cleared his throat, obviously Josh was not able to fall asleep. He heard the occasional turn and pillow fluff sounds coming from the spare bedroom where Donna was also not sleeping. Finally he decided since none of them were actually able to sleep they should just get up. He tossed the blanket aside and padded into the kitchen to put on the teakettle. Josh heard Sam in the kitchen and joined him.

Sam was looking through the cabinets as Josh, wearing a pajama bottom and t-shirt, walked into the kitchen. Sam turned to Josh and asked, "Do you still have some of that tea that helps you sleep?"

"I dunno..."

"Other cabinet. Behind the teapot." Donna said coming up behind Josh.

"Ah!" Sam remarked as he opened that cabinet and pulled out the teapot and herbal tea. "Got it." He turned to look at Josh and Donna staring at him from the doorway. I'll bring the tea in the living room... Why don't you guys go sit down?"

"You sure?" Donna asked.

"I can make the tea, Donna. Go."

Josh and Donna returned to the dark living room and Josh tossed Sam's pillow and blanket to the other end of the sofa and sat down in his usual spot at the left end. Donna quietly picked up the blanket, folded it and sat it over the sofa arm along with the pillow. Her spot cleared, she then sat sideways at the far end of the sofa tucking one foot beneath her and hugging her right knee to her chest. She watched Josh as he sat in the dark with his eyes veiled and his legs stretched out with his feet resting on the coffee table.

"I wish you wouldn't," he said not looking up.

"Wouldn't what?"

"Stare at me like I'm some freak about to start raving at any moment."

She started at the harshness of his appraisal of their concern. "No one thinks you're a freak, Josh."

He snorted a laugh. "That's why I wasn't allowed to meet the President or attend any meetings in the Oval Office Saturday. The Secret Service thinks I'm gonna turn into the Mad Slasher."

"No they don't, Josh. Leo explained that... it's procedure. Besides, the President was trying to leave for Manchester," Donna gently stated.

"Right." Josh said sarcastically but let the matter drop as Sam entered the room with the tea tray.

"Ow!" Sam yelped crashing into the furniture. The tea tray rattled but he managed not to spill more than a slosh. Josh removed his feet from the coffee table and Sam sat the tray down. "We need some light in here." Sam said reaching for a lamp switch.

"No. I like the dark" Josh replied with a note of pleading in his voice.

Sam looked over at Donna barely able to make out her face. "Okay but you may end up with tea all over the carpet."

"I can see to pour. My eyes have adjusted." Donna said scooting over next to Josh so she could reach the tea. She poured a cup and handed it to Sam who then sat down in the easy chair. She poured Josh a cup but he had closed his eyes again.

"Josh... your tea." He opened his eyes and stared at her like he wasn't quite sure where he was. Then his eyes refocused and he took the tea, his hand shaking slightly. She held onto the cup with him for a moment as his hand steadied. He looked back up into her eyes and gave a self-deprecating grin at the telltale sign of his emotional state. Donna poured herself a cup of tea but did not slide back to the other end of the couch. She turned sideways so that her left leg was tucked under her and her right knee was in contact with Josh's leg, wanting the contact and feeling that Josh would as well. She placed her left arm on the back of the sofa so that her hand was in easy reach of Josh's shoulder should he need additional comfort.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping their tea. Neither Sam nor Donna had the bluntness of Toby or CJ when it came to broaching a difficult subject. They had both acted as caregivers for Josh during his long and painful recovery period -- they just thought they had finished that job six weeks ago. Along with Josh's mother, they had nursed him, they had comforted him, and they had nurtured him. But they couldn't heal Josh. They'd done their best to help him get over the physical trauma of being shot, but knowing what to say to a gunshot victim to ease any emotional trauma -- they were out of their depths.

"Josh..." Sam finally ventured, clearing his throat. "Is there anything we can do to help?"

"Hmm?" He replied, opening his eyes and focusing on Sam.

"Is there anything we can do to help? You know... with the PTSD..."

Josh was silent for a few moments and seemed to have withdrawn into himself. Then softy and hesitantly he answered, "It was the music... The music... It set off the flashbacks. It was the same as sirens to me... the shrill, wailing... Stanley said I was reliving it, that I have to get to the point where I can remember it without reliving it... He's gonna recommend a therapist. One who specializes in PTSD."

"Leo's okay with your going back into therapy?" Sam asked pouring refills of tea for himself and the others.

"It's that or fire me. I can't go on like this." He said lifting his bandaged hand and waving it in the general direction of the window. Donna moved her left hand from the sofa and dropped it onto Josh's shoulder gently rubbing it back and forth. She let her hand rest there, occasionally stroking his shoulder.

"The music at the Christmas party set off flashbacks? I thought it was the pilot." Donna asked.

"Cano? Stanley said I'd already started before then. It was the brass quartet earlier that day. The concert was the worst though 'cause I couldn't leave. As soon as I could, I got away. I didn't want anyone to see me like that. Leo didn't want me taking any meeting anyway..."

"Toby saw you. He told me he watched you throughout the concert. He would have gotten you out of there if you lost it any further, even if it made the front page of every paper." Sam said. "He was gonna say you had the flu."

"We were looking for you afterwards. But you'd disappeared," Donna said.

Josh rubbed his eyes with his forefinger and thumb. "I don't even remember driving home. It's amazing I made it in one piece --such as it was." Josh said wryly.

"That's when you smashed the window out?" Sam asked.

He shook his head. "Later. Sometime after midnight... Friday was my birthday, you know."

"Yeah," Sam answered. "We were gonna have a party for you, but...

Josh nodded as he remembered rebuffing the suggestion of a party earlier that month. "I got home, and I remember drinking and thinking about how I was going crazy. I turned 40 just before midnight, and I was going crazy. I didn't know what was happening. I just knew it couldn't be happening. Not to me.

"You're not crazy, Josh." Donna said rubbing his shoulder again. "It'll get better. You'll see. In the meantime, we're here anytime you need us. Just call." Her platitudes felt totally inadequate, but they needed to be said. She slid her hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck and stroked the soft curls above his nape. Josh exhaled a sigh and closed his eyes. Donna took his teacup and set it on the table, continuing to rub his neck and head as Josh relaxed under her touch. "Stretch out on the sofa, Josh. Put your head in my lap and try to take a nap." She pulled him up as she slid back to the other end of the sofa. He followed her lead and stretched out with his head in her lap. She unfolded the blanket and tossed it over him. She tossed the pillow to Sam who grabbed the afghan off the back of the easy chair and leaned the chair back to bring out the footrest and make his own bed for the night. The two real beds would go unused as the three friends chose the comfort of each other's presence over the physical comfort of the beds. Donna continued to stroke Josh's hair as the tears slid silently down her face.

* * *

* * Tuesday, Christmas Day 2000 * *

Sam woke up at dawn and stumbled into the kitchen to start the coffee. Josh woke at the smell and extracted himself from Donna who had slid down partially under and beside him during the night. He lifted her as best he could one handed and repositioned her stretched out on the sofa. He spread the blanket over her and wandered into the kitchen.

"Hey."

"Hey," Sam replied pouring a cup of coffee and handing it to Josh. "You have no food."

"I usually stop and get something."

"You always used to have bagels."

"Yeah, well, I used to have my mother or Donna grocery shopping for me."

"See, there's your mistake. You don't look pathetic enough. You gotta work on that so Donna'll start cooking dinner for us again."

Josh smiled at Sam's silliness and sat down at the kitchen table, sipping his coffee. Sam felt like he'd accomplished his mission for the day in getting Josh to smile. He smirked back and joined Josh at the table. "I thought I'd run home and shower and change. I'll be back in a little while with bagels."

"'Kay. Donna's asleep. I think I'll take a shower myself."

"Can you manage? I can wait to leave."

Josh looked at his bandaged hand and frowned. "I'm not supposed to get it wet..."

"Have you got a plastic bag? And some rubber bands... I can wrap it up for you before I leave. That's what my mom did when I broke my wrist skateboarding when I was twelve."

"You skateboarded?"

"I'm from California. You ice-skated. I skateboarded."

Josh shrugged, "I just can't picture you skateboarding... Did you have streak your hair blond?"

"Of course. I was quite the dude."

"What happened?"

"I graduated from Junior High."

Sam and Josh finished their coffee while Sam located the plastic bag and rubber bands to cover Josh's bandage. He helped Josh maneuver the t-shirt over his head one-handed and then left for home promising to be back in a couple hours at most. Josh crept through the living room so as not to wake Donna and to the master bath. Showering, removing the wet plastic bag from his hand, and dressing proved to be a frustrating experience that exhausted Josh's patience. He decided he wasn't up to the challenge of shaving just yet. He headed back to the kitchen to have some more coffee and read the paper until Donna woke up or Sam returned.

"Josh?" Donna asked sleepily leaning on an elbow. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I was just gonna read the paper. Sam'll be back later with bagels. Go back to sleep."

"'Kay..."

Sam showed up at 8:00 sharp just as Donna was getting out of the shower.

"CJ called. She said to bring you both over for Christmas dinner at 2:00." Sam said, putting the sack of bagels on the kitchen table. He looked over at the depleted coffee pot and frowned. <Gotta do something about that> he thought as he walked over to the coffee maker and proceeded to make a fresh pot. "How long are you one-handed?" He asked watching Josh struggle with opening a container of cream cheese.

"I'm supposed to see my doctor tomorrow... have him look at it and get a new dressing. Then... maybe a week.

"You didn't need stitches?" He took the cream cheese container from Josh and opened it.

"No. It looks bad, but it wasn't that deep." Josh responded opening a drawer and getting knives for the cream cheese spread Sam had bought.

"Is it gonna leave a scar?"

"Yeah. I'm getting quite the collection. Maybe I can show them off to the Senate and scare them, huh?"

"They ought to be good for something besides getting women to grocery shop for you. We can parade you around Capitol Hill in a loin cloth as the 795th wonder of the world."

Josh laughed out right at Sam's latest fight of fancy, providing Donna with a too-seldom seen lately glimpse of the carefree dimpled-Josh as she walked into the room while drying her hair with a towel. Her heart skipped a beat. "What's so funny?" She asked walking over to the coffee pot and pouring a cup.

"We're going to parade Josh around Capitol Hill in a loin cloth to show off his scars. We'll sell tickets. The women will swoon; the men will cringe. We'll solve the national debt."

She smiled and shook her head in mock exasperation. "You really have to cut back on the sugar there, Sam." She grabbed several plates from the cabinet and divvied them out as she sat down at the table.

The guys joined her and proceeded to spread cream cheese on their bagels. Donna and Sam both watched out of the corners of their eyes to see if Josh would be able to manage with just the exposed tips of his left fingers available to hold the bagel while he spread the cream cheese. He seemed to be managing okay so they ignored his difficulty and let him have the pride of managing for himself.

* * *

Sam and Donna had no real plans for the day other than sticking around to make sure someone was there if Josh needed to talk or seemed to be losing it. He assured them that he was fine, but they in turn assured him that they had nothing better to do than just hang out. When Josh tried to review files on the IMF loans he found out that his backpack containing the files had mysteriously disappeared. A ransom note had been left in its place with instructions that if he ever wanted to see his beloved backpack again he would have to proceed on foot to the nearby park and walk aimlessly for an hour. He was to take the blond woman with him so that the kidnapper could identify him... Josh chuckled and accused Sam who professed his total innocence. Sam offered to man the phones while they walked in case the kidnapper called. Smiling her thanks at Sam's creativity, Donna bundled Josh into his coat and pushed him out the door.

Josh and Donna had been gone about 20 minutes and Sam was just about to fall asleep on the sofa when the phone rang.

"Josh Lyman's residence."

"Sam?" the familiar voice of Mary Lyman asked.

"Mary... Hi. Josh and Donna just went for a walk. They should be back in about an hour. I can tell him to call."

"Please. Weren't you going to California for Christmas?"

Sam hesitated. "I stayed." He replied softly.

"Sam? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Well, not 'wrong' wrong. Not 'wrong' in the sense that anything terrible has happened. In fact, everything is just peachy fine. I would have to say even that everything--"

"Sam. You're rambling and I know you ramble when you're trying to evade the truth. Now tell me what's wrong before I get on the next train and come down there. Is Josh okay?"

Sam hesitated.

"Sam? Is he okay?"

"He should tell you. It's not-- I mean..."

"Sam? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then tell me what's wrong. Josh will forgive your telling me quicker than he'll forgive your putting his mother in the hospital. Talk!"

"Yes, ma'am. He has post-traumatic stress disorder. He's having flashbacks, he yelled at the president, he put his hand through a window, he equates music to sirens, and he spent yesterday with a psychologist from ATVA -- the trauma victim people -- and he has to start seeing a special trauma therapist." He took a breath. "I think that about covers it."

Mary was silent for a moment. "Post-traumatic stress... Donna said he was on edge... that she'd been reading up on shooting victims and their adjustment afterwards... How is he? I can come down tomorrow..."

"He's better, really, he is. I think just knowing that what he's going through actually has a name and a reason has helped. It's like he doesn't have to spend all his energy just pretending that there's nothing wrong with him. Donna took him to the hospital to get his hand looked after last night."

"Is it okay?"

"Yeah. He's gotta take antibiotics and it's a nuisance not being able to use his left hand for a few days, but it'll be fine. We had a good talk last night. Donna and I stayed over just to, you know, make sure someone was here if... uh...if he had nightmares or something."

"Did he?"

"No, no, nothing like that. I mean, he couldn't sleep at first, but then we just all kinda camped out in the living room and he got some sleep then. He seems a lot more calm today, so he'll probably be fine on his own tonight..."

"Maybe I should come down today."

"I'm sure he'll say you shouldn't. He'll object to being babied."

"I'm sure he will, but I expect that. I'll just have to appeal to his stomach."

Sam smiled, "Works for me. I think Josh is gonna be needing some help in the evenings... ya know... he's been slacking off on his exercises..."

"You're invited for dinner, Sam." Mary chuckled, things couldn't be that bad if Sam was finagling a dinner invitation. "I'll call back when I get my plans made. I'll try to get there tonight if possible."

"That'd be good. I think we'd all feel better if someone was here, and Donna can't stay here overnight anymore now that he's physically well. I mean... it'd look like..."

"I understand. Besides, it's too soon."

"Yeah. He's not-- nevermind. I'll pick you up tonight, just let me know... Oh, I almost forgot... we're having Christmas dinner at CJ's." He looked at his watch. "We'll have to leave here at 1:30, so call there or one of our cell numbers after that time."

* * *

As expected, Josh whined about Sam having told his mother about the PTDS problems and worrying her into coming down from Connecticut on Christmas Day. The rapidity with which he was reconciled to the concept, however, told a different story. He, also, did not want to risk being alone with his thoughts during the night, and managing everything one-handed was proving near impossible. In addition, there was a sense of relief at not having to have that awkward conversation with his mother himself. <Hi Mom, guess what...> Now, she would swoop in all unconditional love and support in full mother-mode. He could use a few days of mothering -- especially if he ended up getting fired or forced to take a leave of absence over this. Regardless of what Leo promised, he knew the President could still fire him. He reminded himself again that it wasn't really Leo's call to make. He should prepared for the worst. Josh hunched his shoulders, his mind not at all on the sappy Christmas movie that Sam and Donna were watching. He had better start thinking of an apology to the President -- not that it would necessarily do him any good. He was dreading the President's return from the Manchester house tomorrow night.

* * *

The threesome arrived at CJ's to find Toby opening a bottle of wine and Ainsley Hayes stirring a pot of pasta for the Christmas spaghetti. So it wasn't traditional, CJ defended at their teasing, it was all she could come up with at the last minute.

Ainsley had planned on going to North Carolina to spend Christmas with her sister, but her nephew had come down with chicken pox and so she'd stayed in DC. She'd called CJ that morning to see if she wanted to go out for Christmas lunch and a movie and had received an invitation to dinner instead. The Republican lawyer was still new to the group and was a bit shy around Toby whom she didn't know as well as the others. She'd heard through the grapevine yesterday that Josh was meeting with someone from ATVA and CJ had filled her in on enough details so that she didn't ask any awkward questions about his bandaged hand. Still, she was a little ashamed of her initial reaction of arguing the point about gun control with Sam while standing in front of Josh the first time she ever met him. She'd just never really thought of the lasting physical effects of being a victim of violence -- much less the mental effects. For her, guns were just something that people had around. They weren't the thing that had caused such a devastating injury to her best friend. If she had it to do over again, she'd react with compassion first. As Leo always said 'there's a way to be a person'.

The guys headed to the living room to watch the game after CJ ordered them out of her kitchen when Toby kept trying to compromise the integrity of her meat sauce --or improve it, depending on which version you believed. Donna was making a salad when she heard her purse ringing.

"Josh Lyman." Donna said pulling his cell phone out and answering it.

"Hi, Mary. What time should we pick you up. Okay... Delta... Okay. No, that's perfect. She walked away from the CJ and her voice dropped and as she continued, "No... not really... yeah. I'm glad you're coming. Let me get him for you." She stepped into the living room where the guys were huddled around CJ's old 19-inch TV trying to watch football and marveling at the irony that the Press Secretary wouldn't have a better TV. "Josh, it's your Mom."

"Did you get the time she's arriving?" Sam asked eagerly as Josh extracted himself from CJ's too low and deep sofa.

"Delta, 9:15." Donna replied, handing Josh the phone and pointing him towards the bedroom so that he could speak privately with his mother.

"Mom... Mom don't-- I'm fine, Mom... Can we..." as he closed the bedroom door. He didn't come out for 15 minutes, and when he did his eyes were suspiciously red but everyone pretended not to notice.

CJ's nontraditional Christmas spaghetti was a success. She swore she almost added dried cranberries to the meat sauce but that Ainsley advised her against it as being too traditional. That bit of information received a chorus of 'Thank Gods' from the table. And even Toby said that he owed Ainsley for that saving grace. CJ, Toby, and Ainsley made concerted efforts to keep a lively and light conversation going and eventually managed to pull the three more somber members of the party into a more festive mood.

After dinner CJ brought out desert, but instead of pie, it was a birthday cake in belated honor of Josh's 40th birthday. He wasn't expecting it -- no one was -- it was a last minute thing that CJ had decided on as she passed the bakery section in the grocery store that morning. The only trouble she went to, she explained, was finding a grocery story open on Christmas Day. No one had brought gifts, of course. They'd pretty much quit giving and receiving Christmas and Birthday presents amongst their peers 15 years ago. Why give someone something they don't need and can't use when they can buy anything they need, when they need it? They gave their assistants presents -- that was the norm. The assistants and junior staffers would have a Secret Santa gag-gift exchange as part of their staff Christmas party.

Seeing the cake reminded Josh that he had been too deep in the pain to even think about Donna's gift.

"Donna... I'm sorry, I forgot your gift."

"That's okay, Josh. I don't need anything."

"No... I did buy a gift -- last month. I never wrapped it though... and now--" he held up his bandaged hand."

"So what'd you get me?"

"You really want me to tell you. You don't want to, like, wait for it a few days?"

"Josh..." she said warningly.

"Okay, I bought you one of those cashmere shawls. So you won't freeze at, you know, state dinners and... and concerts and stuff, like you usually do. It'll fold down 'til it'll fit in one of those ridiculously small purses you carry to those things." He awkwardly explained. When Donna still didn't say anything he decided he'd better apologize for his poor choice. "I know... it's nothing special... I'm sorry... I just... it made me think of you when I saw it."

"Josh. Thank you." She said wrapping her arms around his shoulders to hug him. "It's a wonderful gift. You've already given me the best gift possible, of course. All of us."

He pulled back from the hug to give her a puzzled look. "Donna, you've had too much Christmas cheer. I haven't given you anything."

CJ provided the answer, "You lived, Josh. You lived." Donna pulled him back tight into a hug and kissed his neck just below his right ear.

"You lived," she whispered.

* * *

"Hello..." Josh answered the ringing cell phone with a smile in his voice. His tone turned serious and quiet. "Yeah, sure... I'll be there shortly."

"What is it, Josh?" CJ said looking over from where she was bickering with Ainsley, Toby, and Sam.

"Leo." He said putting his phone back in Donna's purse. "The President's back early. He wants to see me."

CJ lifted her eyebrows. "Oh..." she replied softly. It'll be okay, Josh. I'm sure the President wouldn't--"

"Yeah. I gotta go." He looked over at Sam who had driven him and Donna to CJ's apartment.

"Let's go." Sam stated firmly as he stood up, prepared to drive Josh to the Gates of Hell if asked. "Donna?"

"I can take you back to Josh's to get your car if you want to stay," Toby volunteered.

Donna looked at Josh for a clue on whether he'd prefer her to not come. He wouldn't look at her, so she took that as an indication that he would like her to come but wouldn't ask. She wondered briefly if looking at her would have also meant she should come... "Thanks, but I need to get something at the office anyway." She was sure she could find something there that couldn't wait 12 hours. She walked to the bedroom to grab their coats off the bed, Sam trailed behind and put his own as she handed it to him. She put her coat on and carried Josh's overcoat back to the living room.

"Thanks, CJ." Josh said in his soft husky 'sincere' voice.

Donna held out his coat allowing him to slip his injured hand in slowly, and then held the coat for his other arm. "Thanks for having us over for Christmas dinner, CJ." She smiled her gratitude for more than the meal.

"Hey, thanks for coming. I never get to cook for anyone anymore," she replied with a smile.

Toby cleared his throat. "You can cook for us anytime. I seem to recall your turning down a perfectly good opportunity to cook Thanksgiving dinner just last month."

"Toby! You invited me at the last minute!"

"I love to cook." Ainsley piped up. "Next year I'll have y'all over for Thanksgiving Dinner. Do you like turkey and dressing? I love it. I could eat a whole turkey. In fact, I remember once--"

With that Sam, Donna, and Josh slipped out of the apartment leaving Toby and CJ to enjoy their argument and Ainsley to reminisce about her favorite foods. The ride to the White House was a quiet. Leo had promised that as long as he had a job, Josh would have a job, but Josh couldn't place much reliance on that since it was President Bartlet who really had the final word on that. He was obsessing... He knew he was obsessing...He couldn't stop obsessing... He took a breath and continued obsessing. If the President thought Josh was a liability, then he would resign. He wouldn't let Leo make any heroic sacrifices or argue for his behalf. He braced himself and prepared to do the dignified thing and resign. He'd raised his voice to the President in the Oval Office -- who was he kidding -- he'd more than raised his voice. He'd totally lost control. It was a wonder the Secret Service hadn't busted down the door and wrestled him to the ground. He put his hands to his eyes and rubbed his temples with his fingertips. He felt sick. He loved his job. He'd loved working for Bartlet. What was he going to do if the President told him to get the Hell out of his White House?

"You okay, Josh?" Sam said looking over at his quiet friend ghostly pale in the flickering light from the streetlights.

"Yeah."

"Your stomach bothering you, Josh?" Donna asked from her spot in the back seat.

"A little."

"You want a--"

"Yeah." He said, reaching a hand back.

She felt around in her purse and found one of the packets of stomach pills she always carried for Josh's sensitive system. For a man who had a reputation as a cutthroat political operative he was incredibly sensitive, nervous, and unsure of himself. All of which contributed to his delicate stomach. She just hoped he didn't throw up on the President...

By mutual consent, Donna and Sam decided to loiter a few minutes in the lobby and remain unobtrusive while Josh went to see Leo. They would be there for support but not weaken him by seeming to be there to hold his hand. Then Donna could drive Josh back in his car while Sam went to the airport to get Mary Lyman.

Leo's door was open and he was reading a report. Josh rapped on the doorframe. "Hey."

"Hey. How you doing?" the White House Chief of Staff asked quietly.

"Sam and Donna came with me. We'd gone to CJ's for Christmas dinner... "

"Good." Leo replied understanding the seeming non sequitur as an oblique reference to the fact that his closest friends were holding him up, so he was managing.

"The President's back early." Josh remarked.

"Yeah. He wanted to get ready for the thing Friday.

"Ah." The IMF thing that Josh was supposed to help with -- assuming he still had a job by Friday.

"He's at the residence." Leo said standing up and gesturing towards the door to the portico as he grabbed his coat.

"Yeah." Josh hunched his shoulders a bit and followed Leo out the door and down the walkway to the Residence.

The security guards let them in and a porter took their overcoats, telling them to go on in, the President was expecting them.

"Good evening Mr. President," Leo said holding the door open for Josh to enter the room. The President looked up over his reading glasses from the thick governmental report he was reading. "Leo. Josh."

Josh stepped forward and stood at attention. "Mr. President, I would like to apologize for my behavior in the Oval Office last Friday. It was totally improper and I sincerely apologize. I have no excuse for my actions."

Leo shot a startled glance at his deputy and then to the President. Josh had an excellent excuse. The President kept his eyes focused on Josh.

"You don't think having post-traumatic stress disorder is a reason to loose your cool?"

"It's not an excuse..." Josh replied softly. "I should have been able to--"

"Josh!" The President stood up and walked across to Josh, grabbing his arm and forcing him to look at him. "Josh," he said softly, " I should apologize to you. I got you shot. You just wanted to serve your country..."

"No! Sir... Mr. President, it's not your fault."

"And it's not yours either, Josh. Come on... sit with me." He led Josh to the sofa. Leo chose to remain standing by the door to allow the President the chance to talk to Josh semi-privately.

Josh and the President sat down on the sofa and the President moved his hand from Josh's arm up to his shoulder.

"Mr. President... If you want my resignation..." The President did look up at Leo that time. He knew Leo had assured Josh that he'd continue to have a job. They hadn't realized that Josh would still worry.

"Josh. You have a job as long as I have a job. Leo spoke for both of us."

"But, I wasn't allowed in any meetings over the weekend."

"Josh, you were in no condition to be attending meetings."

"The Secret Service didn't bar me?"

The President hesitated.

"They did." Josh assessed.

"Just until you got help. They needed to know you weren't... you know..."

"A threat to you."

"More like a threat to yourself. They needed to know how you cut your hand, and no one believed that glass story." The President shook his head and smiled gently. Josh was a terrible liar.

"I... I put my hand through a window..."

"Yeah." The President nodded, confirming he'd already heard. He moved his hand to the base of Josh's neck. "I am sorry, Josh. CJ said maybe we should all get some psychological counseling... That the press was commenting on it, like they were expecting we would... We were just so intent on showing everyone how damn resilient we were. We're Super-Democrats! We could get shot at --or shot-- and bounce right back. No keeping us down! No, sirree, Bob! Not us! We come back twice as strong. We take the House, the Senate, and pick up a few governorships to boot!" President Bartlet gave a brittle laugh. "We concentrated so hard on those races... We threw ourselves into our work... Like we thought the harder we worked the further we could distance ourselves from the shooting. But we ran so far and so fast that we ran smack into it."

"Yeah..." Josh blinked and slowly looked down at his bandaged hand. "Stanley said I was reliving it. I wasn't... I couldn't remember it. What happened that night, I mean."

"Yeah. And you had to concentrate on just getting well physically..."

Josh nodded, "So once I no longer had to think about that..."

"It came back with a vengeance." The President concluded, rubbing his hand along Josh's neck and shoulders. He felt for Josh who was so similar to himself in his ideals and passions. Over the last two years the staff had become like an extended family to him. He'd come to love them all in their own right, but he saw a little more of himself in Josh. He identified with the younger man's struggles with idealism and ambition. Some people just saw the ego. Some the ruthlessness, some the unruly tongue. But he, Jed Bartlet, would be proud to say 'This is my son.'

* * * The end


End file.
